


Art VS Artist

by kopycat_101



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Bi Disaster Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Canon-Typical Violence, Chat Noir Marc Anciel, Crime Fighting, Dissociation, Except things play out A Little More Realistically, Gay Disaster Marc Anciel, Gay Marc Anciel, Inner Dialogue, Ladybug Nathaniel Kurtzberg, M/M, Marc dissociates through life half the time and that's very valid of him, Miraculous Holder Marc Anciel, Miraculous Holder Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Miraculous Ladybug But Make It Gayer, Nathaniel Kurtzberg Has ADHD, Nathaniel and Alix are Childhood Best Friends, Nathaniel's inner monologue includes a lot of panicking and swearing, No I uhhh don't know what I'm doing. But I'm having a good time., Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, The boys don't even meet/interact for the first six chapters, Violence, so this is The Slowest Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:29:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23490169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopycat_101/pseuds/kopycat_101
Summary: Nathaniel’s always wished to be a superhero, always read comics and drawn his own adventures. One day, he gets his wish. He’s enjoying the color scheme going on with his new superhero identity, Fortuno, the lucky Ladybug-themed hero. The red spandex really fits with his naturally red hair. As an artist, he appreciates the on-brand Aesthetics.He could do without the anxiety and pressures of having to be the one to fix all the destruction caused by Akumatized villains on Paris, though. Seriously, he feels like he’s two steps away from having a panic attack every ten seconds. If he messes up, what’ll happen…?Marc’s always wished to go unnoticed, but has secretly always wanted to be strong enough to be a hero. He gets his wish as he’s transformed into Wild Cat, the Cat-themed superhero. The black color scheme of his outfit fits with his hair and his usual choice of accessories, thankfully enough.He could do without the anxiety of having the power to literally vaporize anything he touches, if he’s not careful. And could do without the tiny shorts and the literal chest window on his costume. And his complete lack of filter when he’s transformed, which makes him want to die half the time.
Relationships: Alix Kubdel & Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marc Anciel & Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marc Anciel & Plagg, Marc Anciel/Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Nathaniel Kurtzberg (one-sided), Nathaniel Kurtzberg & Tikki
Comments: 96
Kudos: 144
Collections: MarcNath Fics!





	1. Nathaniel’s No Good, Very Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Creators](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21879565) by [Username8746489](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Username8746489/pseuds/Username8746489). 



> Creators by Username8746489 said Ladybug!Nathaniel and Chat!Marc rights, and you know what? That's super valid.
> 
> Anyways, I was inspired after reading that fic! This is loosely based on some of the concepts there, but I'm not taking anything word-for-word. I'm putting my own spin where I essentially ramp up on the Extra-ness of our main boys, including their crippling anxiety and their dumbassery.
> 
> I also have Visual References/fanart!  
> Fortuno and Wild Cat references:  
> https://mexicancat-girl.tumblr.com/post/623553889392836608/alternate-miraculous-holders-ladybugnathaniel#postnotes
> 
> Nath and his older sister Jaina:  
> https://mexicancat-girl.tumblr.com/post/623840260076519424/nathaniel-goes-to-his-big-sister-for-advice-on-a#postnotes
> 
> Marc and his Moms by Christallized: https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/659753718971105286/733521796996792331/image0.jpg

* * *

Nathaniel Kurtzberg isn’t the type to scream when he’s panicking, or afraid. His panic and fear are very reserved, on the outside. He goes perfectly still, like a statue, while his mind internally screams at him and he feels his will to live spiral down the drain.

For once in his life, Nathaniel sure does wish he was the type to scream when panicking, because _boy howdy_ does he really want to do that, right now.

What he does, instead, is freeze in place, eyes bugging out of his head as he stares at the little demon-bug-rat- _thing_ that’s floating in front of him.

* * *

It all started in the morning, he bemoans dramatically in his head. This morning, while trying not to be late on the first day of school, he nearly got run over by a car because he was trying to make sure an old man didn’t get _himself_ run over by a car.

He essentially bull-rush tackled an elderly Asian man out of the way of a speeding vehicle. It’s the dumbest fucking thing he’s ever done in his entire life, and he swore everything happened in slow motion, like in the movies.

Next thing he knows, he’s on his ass on the sidewalk, the contents of his book bag splayed out on the concrete. Almost like a frantic squirrel harvesting nuts for the oncoming Winter, he dove, scrambling to gather his various school and art supplies, forcefully shoving them back into his book bag unceremoniously.

He took that moment to lament his usual order of his art supplies, and also that he was probably taking too much shit with him to only the first day of classes. But the first day of classes never had anything important going on _anyways_ , and he could use that time to draw however much he likes.

Anyways, he ate the concrete like in one of those fail-compilation videos.

The old man he saved was kind enough to bend down and attempt to help him gather his things, but Nathaniel’s face was burning bright red in complete mortification and he felt like dying. After all, making an elderly man using a cane help him gather his things was awful enough, but a man he nearly tackled to the ground? That’s just about grounds for assault, right? Like, sure, he maybe possibly saved that man’s life, but was that really an excuse? Would that even hold up in court?

So he stuttered out a nonsense, garbled sentence alongside the lines of “It’s okay, you don’t need to help me, it’s fine.”

Nathaniel gathered all his things, got up, asked if the old man was okay, and when he got the confirmation of “yes, I’m fine, young man, thank you—” he already turned on his heel and sprinted away.

Nathaniel wasn’t going to be late to the first day of classes. Who the hell would believe him, anyways, if his excuse was “Sorry I’m late, I just saved an old man from a speeding car, and almost died”? No one. They’d think he was telling tall tales, and that’s _way_ too much negative attention for the start of the school year, thanks.

Anyways, he got to school on time. Neat. He took his usual seat behind Ivan, so he could get away with drawing in class. Also neat. Chloe was being a total witch, which wasn’t neat, but the usual. He sort of dreaded being in her class again, but, whatever. That was his luck, right?

School let out without any issues, thankfully. He goes back home, goes into his room with a vague hello to his dad, and then he dumps his bookbag on his desk.

And out of all things, a little box drops out, and onto his desk. A little box he’d never seen before in his entire life, mind you.

He was curious.

He opened the box to find a pair of…earrings. Which, alright, still strange. But Nathaniel had been considering getting his ears pierced sometime soon. Maybe even piercing them himself.

And like a complete and utter dumbass, he decided to follow said impulse. With his phone, he pulled up some wiki-how articles, taking the earrings with him, going to the bathroom.

He rifled through the first aid kit in the medicine cabinet. Found antiseptic and alcohol for disinfecting, and decided to pierce his ears then and there.

He only got as far as actually picking up one of the earrings to inspect. They were circular and red—very fitting, and conspicuous enough in his red hair that it would be hard for people to pick them out.

He was revving himself up for actually going through with it—even pinched his left earlobe hard enough it went numb.

But by picking up those earrings, he unleashed this…this _thing_.

Hence, his current situation of wanting to scream, but being unable to because his body’s defense mechanism was to freeze in place.

But he was screaming internally. Very much so.

* * *

“Hello, Nathaniel!” the little red-black demon chirrups. “I’m Tikki!”

And, as was usual, Nathaniel staid stock still, and did not physically say a peep.

“You’re a current holder of the Ladybug Miraculous!” the little floating demon says, rather enthusiastically, completely ignoring that he wasn’t responding. “I’m the guardian of the Ladybug Miraculous, and I can give you super powers!”

Cool cool cool.

This was _totally_ real, he thinks, rather sarcastically. Totally.

Nathaniel gave a full-body twitch.

With the hand already up near his face, he reached out and pinched his own cheek and. Yup. That hurt.

This is real.

“What,” he starts, voice small and tremulous, barely a breath. “The _fuck_.”

* * *


	2. Marc’s Semi-Charmed Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited about this AU that I wrote like, a good 40 pages of content already. Someone stop me. I've become a monster.
> 
> We're playing fast and loose with this story, lads, ladies, and nb babies. I'm going to build up the boys first getting their Miraculouses and their first meeting, and then after that will probably be an anthology fic.

* * *

Interesting things did not happen to Marc Anciel.

Sure, he _wrote_ that interesting things happened to him. But that was sort of his thing. Writing stories.

It helped with the escapism, and was a _great_ coping mechanism.

No, he didn’t have a particularly hard or tragic life. But he was fourteen, and going to school, and had a history of being bullied.

Kids were cruel, he learned. So instead of really interacting with other kids his age, Marc took to reading as his escape and writing as his solace.

Homophobia can’t exist in fantasy, after all. Not if _Marc’s_ the one writing the stories.

Now, don’t even get him _started_ on all those _stupid_ fantasy books that took the excuse of it being “historically accurate” to just be plain awful to its characters. Just because one bases their world off medieval times doesn’t mean the author themselves had to present medieval thoughts, including hate speech, misogyny, racism, homophobia—and, well, the list goes on.

Just because you _could_ write awful things, didn’t mean you _should_. And defaulting to awful things was just. Incredibly lazy writing, as well.

But, anyways. Marc likes to write stories, and he likes to write things that were a bit more hopeful and a lot less bigoted.

It’s why he wants to be a writer, really. To write the narratives people were usually too lazy and cowardly to write. Narratives where kids could feel safe with, like they belonged. Like they had someone rooting for them, even if the people in the real world weren’t.

He wanted to provide solace for other kids like him. Kids who turned to books, when they were pushed away from their peers.

This was all a very long-winded and poetic way to say: Marc Anciel did not have a very tragic or interesting life, but he liked to write stories where interesting things happened to him, and he could live happily.

* * *

It’s with all this in mind that bring Marc to this current moment. Blinking down at the little… floating… kitten? Thing? That’s hovering in front of his face.

He’s not sure how this happened, really. One second, he’d put on a cool-looking ring he thinks one of his moms gave him as a present, snuck into his bag. The next, poof! Tiny demon cat in his face!

“Hey, the name’s Plagg,” the little demonic kitty drawls, almost disinterested, except for its shrewd, green eyes that seem to pierce into Marc’s soul. “I’m the guardian of the Cat Miraculous, which you have.”

“ _What_ ,” Marc finds himself stating—squeaking, really—staring at the demon apparently named Plagg. His eyes feel like they’re wide enough to pop out of his skull any second.

“Confusing, I know,” Plagg yawns, canines flashing bright. “But basically, I can give you superpowers, kid. You up for it?”

Marc pinches himself, because. This can’t be real. This can’t _actually_ be real.

Marc writes about interesting things that happen to other people, sometimes to him. But. Nothing interesting has ever _actually_ happened to him.

Until right now, apparently.

He feels the pinprick of pain, signaling that he’s not asleep at his writing desk, vividly hallucinating the plot to his next short story.

“U-Um…?” Marc stutters out, his mind running a mile a minute and tripping over itself in the process. Alongside what he believes in a wailing siren from the Kill Bill movies, in there.

“Anyways, I’m starving,” Plagg states, turning around in a full circle, peering curiously around Marc’s room. “You got any food in here?”

And then Plagg decides to pounce on the nearest object—Marc’s desk lamp—and attempts to chew on the metal casing.

“Ewwww, you can’t eat this!”

The little demon sort of acts like an actual cat, Marc can’t help but notice with detached interest, as Plagg dives to the next item—chewing on the end of Marc’s mechanical pencil. Hungry, and attacking various objects by biting or clawing at it.

When Plagg dives for a pair of discarded socks that have missed Marc’s hamper, he can’t help the snort of amusement as the little demon cat spits the socks out of its mouth. “Ugh, that’s _disgusting_! What is this?!”

“Those are socks,” Marc says, with a surprising amount of calmness. If he just considers the floating, talking cat as just a normal cat, he can handle the entire situation without instantly breaking down into a gibbering, nervous wreck.

Ah, compartmentalizing. His old friend. What a gift.

Healthy? Nope. And it isn’t healthy to avoid one’s problems, but hey! That’s never really stopped Marc before.

“Um, I…I can get you some actual food, Plagg,” he offers, tentative. “P-please just stop t-trying to eat random objects in my room, okay…?”

“Sure, sure,” the cat harrumphs, crossing its hands? Paws? And then floating closer to Marc’s face.

Marc smiles, with remarkable calmness, feeling like he’s puppeteering his own body.

“ _Why hello there, dissociation, my old friend_ ,” he thinks with an odd amount of cheeriness that would have his mothers eye him with complete and utter concern. “ _Glad you could make it_.”

“D-do you have any preference…?” he asks politely, because his moms raised him _right_ , thank you very much. Plagg, although a talking and floating cat that could apparently grant superpowers, was a _guest_.

Plagg seems to perk up visibly, smile turning into a Cheshire cat grin.

“Camembert Cheese!”

“I don’t think we have that,” Marc replies evenly, quick to add on when Plagg visibly deflates, “But I’ll see what I can find.”

Plagg brightens once more, green eyes all but glowing. “Give me the strongest and stinkiest chest you’ve got!”

Marc’s one hundred percent sure that the selection currently in their kitchen wouldn’t be up to Plagg’s standards, but he offers, “I think we have some _queso fresco_ , cheddar, mozzarella, and _maybe_ a fourth option.”

“Then I guess it’s time for a taste-test!” Plagg hoots, licking its chops dramatically. Marc laughs. He wonders when would be appropriate to ask for Plagg’s pronouns, because using ‘it’ seems quite demeaning. But does Plagg even _have_ a gender…? Would that be rude to ask?

Hm.

He’ll ask later, when the dissociation’s gone.

“Sure thing,” Marc says, quite agreeably. He stands from his chair—and, huh, it was a good thing he was sitting the whole time this happened, right? Else, he would’ve collapsed in the middle of his room—and makes his way to his bedroom door.

Interesting things never happened to Marc Anciel, but this may be the start of that changing, for better or worse.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plagg: [appears]  
> Marc, rapidly starting to dissociate:   
> 
> 
> Spanish terms:  
> Queso fresco= literally translates to "fresh cheese". It's essentially a very fresh type of traditionally Mexican cheese. It has either a smooth or crumbly texture.


	3. Comic Book Origin Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Almost forgot to update this with all the stress of school work recently, but I remembered in the end!
> 
> Have another prologue-ish part setting up Nath with his Miraculous. We still have three more chapters after this before the boys meet. Slow Burn is a go, babyyyy.

“So,” Nathaniel starts, already feeling like his life has spiraled so far out of control it wasn’t even _real_ anymore. “You’re Tikki, a Kwami. Which is essentially a deity that helps protect the Earth and its people, with the ability to grant someone the powers of good luck and creation. This comes in the form of a pair of earrings, which are a Miraculous, an object created by a powerful Chinese mage thousands of years ago. The current Miraculous in my possession is the Ladybug Miraculous, and is one of the most sought-out of the Miraculouses, because of its amazing abilities.”

That’s as succinct as a summarization he can manage, with his mind feeling both like it’s useless mush and like it’s hyperaware of every single detail in the universe.

“That’s right!” Tikki nods enthusiastically, smiling wide. “Wow, you’re really quick on the uptake, Nathaniel! I’m glad I got partnered with you.”

“Thanks,” he responds automatically, feeling numb and on the edge of _another_ oncoming panic attack, but trying _very hard_ to keep it at bay.

“Since you have everything down, I think it’s time for me to explain about why you have your powers in the first place,” Tikki says, sitting down on one of the bathroom sink’s taps.

Tikki then goes into another long explanation about the Miraculouses being used for corrupt purposes, and the Akuma, and that they need to be stopped and captured.

Nathaniel’s mind feels like it’s full of cotton, with the amount of info dumped on him. If this were a comic, this would be a scene made purely for exposition, explaining to the hero about their powers and its origins.

Exposition dumps were a tedious, but often necessary, part of comic books.

Nathaniel wished he wasn’t literally fucking living through one, but, oh well. His life was never particularly lucky in the first place.

Nathaniel rubs at his temples, groaning, when Tikki finishes explaining the problem. He goes over to the toilet, sets the seat down, and then slumps onto the covered seat with a long sigh.

“Nathaniel…?” Tikki asks, tentatively, from his elbow.

“This is…a _lot_ to process,” he finally admits, the alarm blaring in the back of his mind getting ever louder.

“I know it is,” Tikki says sympathetically, with wide, soulful eyes. They’re blue, nearly the same color as Nathaniel’s own. How painfully ironic. “But please, Nathaniel…You were chosen to be a Miraculous Holder. You _need_ to become a hero to protect Paris.”

Nathaniel lets out a whine, slapping his hands over his face and dragging them down forcefully, before he lets his face go.

“ _How_ ,” he starts, “How the _hell_ is this my superhero origin story…? I find a pair of earrings, and now there’s a ladybug god-fairy-thing that’s going to give me super luck and the _literal ability of creation_. This _can’t_ be real.”

“Nathaniel, this is very much real!” Tikki huffs, glaring and landing on his shoulder. “And it’s up to you to save your city from the Akuma!”

“This feels like some sort of…Of Sailor Moon knock-off,” Nathaniel goes on, babbling nervously, now. “But instead of using a rod or makeup to power up, I’m given a pair of earrings—when _my ears aren’t even pierced_ , by the way—and told, ‘go out there, kid! Confuse everyone with by being a ladybug, when you’re a guy! It’ll be great for the ratings!’”

“You know, I’m starting to think that maybe you don’t actually understand anything I’d told you…” Tikki says dryly, and wow. _Rude_.

“Oh, I understand quite perfectly!” Nathaniel huffs, sitting up straight, nearly dislodging the demon-ladybug from his shoulder. “I have to go and save Paris ‘cuz there’s not enough pure-hearted girls out there to be magical girls, so the universe decided to settle on the next best thing? A shy little boy who doesn’t act ‘ _manly’_ and is too cowardly to even stand up for himself?”

Tikki throws up its little hands in frustration. “You’re not a girl! You’re a boy, and chosen because you are a very brave and kind one, at that! And you’re going to be a _superhero_ , not a…a _magical girl_ …Whatever that even is!”

Nathaniel slumps bonelessly, letting out a long sigh. He throws his head back, thunking it against the tiled bathroom wall.

“Sorry,” he finds himself apologizing, staring up listlessly at the fluorescent light, voice surprisingly even and pleasant in spite of his mounting panic. “But I’ve just gone through three different panic attacks one after another, so I’m not exactly being very agreeable.”

The Kwami seems to do a full one eighty after hearing his admittance. The ladybug coos in sympathy, hovering to look Nathaniel in the eye, looking stricken. “Oh, Nathaniel…”

“I’m not who you’re looking for,” he goes on, squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to see the pity in the little deity’s gaze. “I’m…I’m a coward. I overthink things. I suffer through massive anxiety and can’t even speak up for myself. I have a panic attack at least once a week, maybe only once a month, if I’m lucky. I…I’m really not a good fit to be a superhero, Tikki.”

“Nathaniel, you were chosen for a reason. Because you’re kind, and care for others, like your classmates, and even complete strangers. You’re brave enough to help others…And admitting your flaws is a pretty brave thing, too!”

Nathaniel opens his eyes, peering down at Tikki, completely taken aback.

Tikki smiles back at him, gentle and kind and supportive. “So, even if you don’t believe in yourself… _I_ believe in you.”

Nathaniel sniffles, tears quickly budding in his eyes.

  
“C-cool. Can’t relate,” he warbles out jokingly, through his hiccupping sobs. “B-But thank you.”

And then he full-out bursts into noisy tears, because of _course_ he does.

He _does_ cry whenever he got too overwhelmed, pushed to the emotional brink…And this entire _situation_ was a textbook-perfect example of him being pushed to an emotional brink.

* * *

A knock comes out from the door, sharp and sudden, in the middle of his sob-fest. It startles Nathaniel so much, he jolts with a squawk. Tikki’s large eyes bug out even more, and with a tiny squeal, the Kwami dives to hide in the space between his jacket and shirt.

“Son, are you okay…?” his dad asks from the doorway, sounding concerned. “Are you…Are you having a panic attack? Do you need something?”

“Maybe,” Nathaniel says, face flushing as the word tumbles out with a sob. “S-Sorry, um…G-g-give me a minute, P-Papa.”

He stands up unsteadily, feeling the Kwami stock-still against his heart, clutching at his shirt’s fabric. He gently places a hand over it, trying to comfort the little ladybug.

“It’s fine,” he whispers to Tikki, before he moves to open the bathroom door.

His dad stands there, hair in its usual curly state, completely unkept since he’s at home and not in a shift at the Louvre. Papa smiles at him sympathetically. “Rough first day…?”

“N-Not really,” Nathaniel sniffles, but buries himself in his dad’s open arms anyways, melting into the man’s embrace. “G-Guess I’m just…still not ready for the newest school year. It feels a little overwhelming.”

“School’s always like that, I’m afraid,” Papa chuckles, smoothing a hand through Nathaniel’s hair soothingly. “How about I take you somewhere, as a congrats on your first day back? We can go do something you want. Maybe another trip to our usual comic shop?”

Nathaniel sniffles, and considers.

“Actually…” he starts, feeling a sudden surge of bravery. Maybe because he can feel Tikki lying right over his heart, reminding him that they believe in him. “Can…can I get my ears pierced?”

Papa pulls back, blinking down at him in obvious surprise. “Oh?”

“Yeah…” Nathaniel nods, completely stepping back from the embrace. He feels a bit more confident as he pulls back his shoulders and looks up at his dad’s startled grey gaze. “I’ve been a-actually wanting to get them pierced for a while now, but, um…”

His dad grins down at him, looking bemused and a little confused, but not judgmental. “I mean, getting your ears pierced is scary business, I’ve heard. But, sure. We can do that, if you really want. I think I heard from one of my coworkers that there’s a store in the mall that does it, and will sell you an earring set to go along with it. Two of her own kids wanted to get their ears pierced, just last month.”

Nathaniel sighs out, slumping in relief. “Oh…Nice.”

“I’m a little surprised, though,” Papa chuckles, rubbing one of Nathaniel’s shoulders. “Going straight into something a little scary after feeling bad…You’re getting braver by the day, little luckster.”

Nathaniel flushes, ducking his head, laughing awkwardly. “M-Maybe.”

“C’mon, kiddo. Let’s get you to the mall.”

A thought occurs to Nathaniel, just then. “Okay, but let me clean up a bit, first.”

“I’ll wait for you in the living room,” his dad nods, ruffling his hair much to Nathaniel’s spluttering protest, before heading to the living room.

* * *

Nathaniel returns to the bathroom, carefully closing the door, and locking it just in case.

Tikki immediately bursts from the confines of his clothing. “I was so nervous…!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, going over to the case with the Miraculous earrings. “Quick question: If I take these with me, will I accidentally transfer my powers to the person piercing my ears?”

Tikki seems to mull it over. “If you hand the Miraculous over to someone else…That’s essentially handing over the powers, and me, as well.”

“Alright, then I’ll just keep the earrings in my room,” Nathaniel nods to himself.

“Wait!” Tikki yelps, flying to be in front of his face. “You…You’re going to put the Miraculous on when you get back…right?”

Nathaniel blinks at the Kwami, taken aback and confused. “Um, yeah…?”

Tikki seems to sag in relief, even sighing gustily. “Phew! Then…Then, that’s fine!”

“Okay…?” he mutters, still confused, before shrugging and picking up the earrings again. “Whatever you say, Tikki.”

He places them in the box again and closes it the lid.

And when he looks up, the Kwami is gone.

“Uh…” he feels a bead of sweat traveling down his brow. “Tikki? Buddy?”

Still no answer.

He opens up the box, and awkwardly pokes one of the earrings again.

Tikki fizzles back into existence, right in front of his face. He yelps, wide-eyed. “Oh! I forgot to explain!”

“W-What the hell…?!” he hisses, stepping back, clutching his chest. Tikki looks back at him, sheepish, rubbing the back of their head.

“Sorry. Anyways! When you’re not physically wearing or touching the Miraculous…You can’t exactly see me,” Tikki explains, giving a large shrug. “So, I’ll disappear until you actually put your Miraculous on. Sorry for that!”

“O…kay,” he drawls, still clutching at his chest, his heart slowing back to a normal tempo. “G-Good to know?”

Tikki nods enthusiastically. “I’ll be waiting, okay?”

“Alright…Ah, thanks,” he nods back slowly. “I’ll…be back in maybe an hour?”

“See you then!” Tikki chirps, before Nathaniel closes the box again, and the Kwami pops out of existence.

"Fucking weird," he mutters, but feels himself smile regardless.

His life really has spiraled out of control but… He doesn’t think that’s a bad thing anymore, exactly.

He splashes some water on his face to hide the puffy redness of his eyes, sighing as the cool water does its trick to snap him out of it.

He places the Miraculous box in his jacket pocket. Just in case.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathaniel, at the start of this chapter when interacting with Tikki:  
> 
> 
> Nathaniel, after one (1) whole Tikki says she believes in him:  
> 


	4. A Cheesy Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk why I wrote so much introductory material to this fic, but I had a good time slowly fleshing out these boys' reactions to their life flip-turning upside down.

* * *

Marc quietly sneaks downstairs, making his way to the kitchen. He gestures for Plagg to go in his jacket pocket, placing a finger against his lips in the universal sign to be quiet.

Plagg rolls their eyes sassily, but complies anyways.

Mama Carmen usually does her work in the living room or the kitchen. It’s better safe than sorry.

He passes the living room without incident, poking his head into the kitchen. Mama’s working at the kitchen table, looking like she’s mashing potatoes. Probably for dinner, no doubt.

“Marc, _mijo_ ,” Mama blinks at him, startled when he goes over to noisily open the fridge door. She places a hand on her chest, laughing heartily. “I didn’t notice you come downstairs!”

“Sorry, Mama,” Marc apologizes sheepishly, meek. The fact that he’s starting to feel emotions again is good. Means the dissociation is finally gone.

It also makes the weight in his jacket pocket all the heavier, a damning thing.

“I just wanted a snack,” he tells her, waving her down frantically as she suddenly stands from her seat, all but ready to bustle over to him. “It’s fine! I can find something myself, Mama.”

“If you say so, _mijo_ …” Mama sighs, smiling gently at him. “It’s still a bit until dinner, so help yourself to something quick. I’m just getting a head start prepping it.”

Marc can’t help but perk up, already feeling himself salivate at the thought of dinner. “Ooh, I can’t wait!” he tells her brightly, smiling. “If you need any help, though, tell me…?”

“I’ll let you rest a bit, but I’ll call for you later,” she agrees, turning back to the task at hand. “Just remember not to spoil your dinner!”

“’Kay!” he calls back, sticking his face in the fridge, riffling through for all the cheeses they have.

He nips a plate from the cupboard, as well as a small paring knife from a drawer, and gets to work on essentially making Plagg a homemade cheese platter.

It’s not exactly a fancy spread, that’s for sure. But he cobbles together what he can—even finding a jar of cheese sauce and some Cheezits to add to the haul, just for the hell of it.

When he turns around, he nearly startles and drops his plate at his mom staring at him.

“My my, has my son been replaced with a little _ratón_ …?” she asks, giggling at her joke. “Is that enough cheese, Mickey Mouse?”

Marc flushes, spluttering. “L-Listen…Um. I just. F-felt like eating cheese right now, okay?” he huffs out, hunching his shoulders and trying to hide behind his plate.

“Okay, okay, no need to be so embarrassed, _mijo_ ,” Mama says, smiling and shaking her head. “They’re just _cheesy_ jokes.”

“Mama, that was _bad_ ,” Marc giggles, drawling the words out. “I’m leaving _right_ now.”

“Oh no… have I _curdled_ your mood?” Mama asks with fake innocence, batting her eyelashes.

“ _Mama_ ,” he groans, shaking his head fondly and moving to exit the kitchen. “I’m going back to my room. Call me down if you need help with dinner.”

“Alright, alright. ‘Til later, Marc.”

“’Til later, Mama.”

* * *

Marc is quick to slide into his room, closing the door and locking it behind him.

Right as he does so, Plagg burst from his jacket pocket. “Cheese!”

“Waitwaitwait,” Marc yelps, all but bowled over by the little kitten zooming as quick as a bullet onto the plate. Plagg just about dive-bombs the thing, and Marc fumbles with a hiss, the plate almost being slam-dunked on the floor from the force.

“Y-you’ll break the plate!” he hisses in admonishment, irritation thick, before he stomps over to his desk. Plagg trails behind him with a loud whine.

Marc carefully places the plate of cheese on his desk and stands back as Plagg attacks it like a pack of ravenous piranhas.

“These cheeses are _so_ subpar!” Plagg whines, even while they inhale each cheese option in its entirety. “ _Nothing_ like Camembert…!”

“Th-this is all we had,” Marc reminds the small kitten-demon with a huff, crossing his arms and leaning his hip against his desk. “So, I-I’m afraid you’ll just have to make do...”

“It’ll do. For now,” Plagg sniffs, quite imperiously, even with their mouth stuffed with cheese. Marc can’t help but wince a bit in disgust at the lack of manners, but then again, Plagg’s a cat. Cats are assholes without any manners, when they’re not adorable kittens.

“Camembert’s an expensive cheese as well, so I highly doubt I’ll even be able to get my hands on it…” Marc sighs, frowning at the horrified look Plagg gives him. “And, no, I won’t ask my moms to buy loads of it for you, either. It’ll be too suspicious.”

“What good even _are_ you, if you can’t give me Camembert!” Plagg bursts out, throwing their paws up in the air.

“ _Excuse_ me…?” Marc says, quietly, feeling a bit of indignant fury build within him. He drops his crossed arms, glaring down at the rude little demon, fists spasming and clenching. “ _You’re_ the one that just—that just appeared out of nowhere! A-and started demanding food that I can’t give you!”

Plagg blinks back at him, eyes half-lidded, tail swishing lazily. “Hm…As a Miraculous Holder, you need to live up to my high standards, kid.”

“That’s the thing!” Marc exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air, mirroring the demon-cat’s past action, full of irritation. “I haven’t understood a _single_ thing you’ve told me since you’ve appeared…!”

“Yeesh, kid, calm down,” Plagg snorts, quite mockingly, with a yawn. Marc fights down the distinct need to grab the tiny cat by the scruff and put them in a corner for time-out, like the complete brat they are. “I guess I’ll explain it to you, then.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title for this chapter: Marc Is DONE, Someone Please Help Him.
> 
> Spanish terms:  
> Mijo= son  
> Ratón= mouse


	5. Red Dead Aesthetics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, slapping the top of this chapter: You can fit a lot of Headcanons in this.
> 
> Fleshing out Nathaniel's family a bit more, even if we only technically see Nath's dad for now. It's for #The Worldbuilding.
> 
> Nathaniel does have an older sister named Jaina. Yes, it's very common for ML characters to have older siblings, but it makes sense when they do.
> 
> Jaina is a Hebrew name meaning “Gift of God”, matching Nathaniel’s name meaning “Gift of God” or “God has given”.

* * *

Nathaniel rubs at his sore ears.

Sure, he got them pierced half so he could wear the Ladybug Miraculous, but still. His ears were _sore_. And it’s going to bug him (ha) for the rest of the fucking day, he can already tell.

“I swear, the wiki-how articles said it would hurt less…” he grumbles, slumping in his seat at the food court table his dad insisted they stop at.

“You’re the one that wanted to get his ears pierced, son,” Papa hums, eyes twinkling, looking severely amused.

It’s true, but he didn’t have to _say_ it.

“I _know_ , but I didn’t realize it would hurt as much as it does!” he huffs, trying very hard not to sound like a total brat. He jabs a spoon into his frozen yogurt sundae rather violently, before scooping some of the sweet treat to pop it in his mouth. He perks up slightly, suddenly remembering his manners. “But thank you for taking me. And getting me frozen yogurt, too.”

“Honestly, I’m just proud at how brave you were in there! You didn’t say a single peep! Everyone else screamed like they were getting murdered,” his dad chuckles, taking a lick of his vanilla frozen yogurt cone.

Nathaniel nods, shoving more frozen yogurt in his mouth so he doesn’t have to actually answer. A method he’s quite proficient and well-practiced in, actually; shoving food in his mouth so he doesn’t have to participate in a conversation.

The only reason he hadn’t screamed was because his panic set in. And his defense mechanism in the face of fear was to freeze up and not say a peep.

The thought makes him snort, and his unoccupied hand moves down to his pocket. He clutches onto the box holding the Miraculous and Tikki inside it.

After all, he’s learned quite well that he wishes he could scream out loud when he’s afraid, just from the wild debacle of meeting Tikki.

“Well, I guess the good part’s now I can wear earrings, like how I want,” Nathaniel says around another heaping spoonful of his sundae. “And I guess now I know how bad it’ll be, if I want more.”

Papa gives him a rather scandalized look. “You actually want more piercings…?!”

“Maybe just one or two more,” he answers, a bit defensively. He taps the upper part of his ears. “Somewhere here? I think they’re called cartilage piercings? Like Jaina’s.”

Papa looks dubious, but stays quiet, just letting them eat their frozen yogurt in peace.

Nathaniel starts to feel a little nervous, though. He’s never told either of his parents that he’s wanted piercings, before today. And that’s the more, like, _societally acceptable_ way to modify his body.

He sure as hell wasn’t going to ever _mention_ thinking tattoos were cool, and that maybe, possibly, he wanted one. Or two. Or a whole sleeve, if he could get away with it.

Maybe if his sister gets one, it’ll soften the blow for him in the future…Jaina would be the type to get a tattoo, if she hasn’t already. And she’d say it would ‘fit her aesthetic’, or something, he’s sure.

“Well, I think just starting with normal pierced ears is fine,” his dad starts up, and Nathaniel tenses, waiting for the possible kickback. He relaxes slightly when his dad goes on with, “When you’re older and you still want more, we can discuss it together with your mother, possibly. Like how we did with Jaina.”

“O-Okay, c-c-cool,” Nathaniel says, coughing to clear his throat. “I mean, um. Thanks, Papa.”

He gives Papa a small, crooked grin, feeling relieved. Papa smiles back at him, a bit awkward, but no less genuine for it.

“It’s inevitable, I think. Lots of students in the arts like to do things like have piercings and dye their hair, and such. It’s all a mode of self-expression for many of them, and your sister is a prime example of that as well,” the man nods, almost as if nodding to himself. “Honestly, at this point, it feels like I’ve seen every single color possible as someone’s hair color.”

Nathaniel snorts out a laugh. He can believe it. The Louvre attracts a huge range of people, and there’s bound to be some wild-looking art students there to visit the Classics. “Yeah? There’s a lot of weird hair colors in my school too, y’know?”

“I’m sure!” Papa laughs, reaching over and gently rapping his knuckles against Nathaniel’s. “Little Alix is one that comes to mind! Todd _swears_ he has to buy her that pink hair dye she loves so much, at least once a month, for her.”

“Heh. That sounds like her, alright,” Nathaniel muses, smiling and shaking his head fondly.

Him and Alix have known each other for years, through their dads both being art historians at the Louvre. Typically, Alix’s dad is in charge of directing the Louvre’s main collection. Papa’s an art historian that specializes in painting restoration, and often helmed the rotation of certain artworks to reduce possible damages.

Nathaniel thinks their jobs were super cool, though he’s not sure if he wants to actually be an art historian in the future. He appreciates art, of course, including all the Classic masterpieces. But he also appreciates what most people would consider low-brow art, the stuff geared more towards the common people. Comics and sequential art were part of it, but he also enjoyed figure drawing, digital art, and Screen Printing. As well as the occasional painting, to keep his classically trained art skills fresh.

Besides, while the Louvre was amazing with having so much ‘genius’ art in it, like…Art museums in general, as establishments, were morally bankrupt places.

“What was that about morally bankrupt…?” Papa asks, blinking at him owlishly behind his horn-rimmed glasses.

Nathaniel instantly shoves another spoonful of frozen yogurt in his mouth to buy himself some time.

Did he…say that last thought out loud? Shit. Fuck. Okay then.

How can he recover from this?

“I mean…it’s not morally bankrupt to, like. Dye your hair,” he finally says, after he manages to properly unseal his mouth from the amount of fudge he’d unknowingly shoved in his mouth.

His dad just stares back at him, before laughing in that awkward, confused way of a parent trying very hard to be hip and understand their kid’s seemingly nonsensical in-jokes. “I suppose it’s not! Though I wonder how you think of these things, son...”

Nathaniel shrugs awkwardly, a hand up to cover his mouth so he can pass his tongue over his teeth and scrape off the fudge residue.

_Why_ did he think it was okay to pair fudge pieces, Oreos, MnM’s, chocolate chips, and chocolate sauce into this…this _monstrosity_ of a sundae?

Why did he always play himself like this? Damn his sweet tooth and love of chocolate…

“Dunno. But, if it makes you feel better…I personally don’t think I’ll ever dye my hair anytime soon,” Nathaniel admits around his spoon, already shoving more of his sundae in his mouth, because he’s a glutton for both chocolate and punishment. “My hair’s already a cool color that’s rare to see, anyways.”

Papa smiles warmly at him, giving a big, cheesy wink. “Be glad you get that from me, then.”

“Do I have _you_ to thank for my hair getting frizzy every time I step out of the shower, too?” he retorts, sticking his tongue out cheekily. “’Cuz if so, not a fan, Papa.”

Papa laughs loudly, snorting all the while. “Hah! Be glad your mother gave you a manageable hair type to work with! And—”

“Her sea-blue eyes. Yeah, I know,” Nathaniel finishes, rolling his eyes and grinning slightly. “You tell me that one all the time, I think. Even Jaina’s made it a quote.”

“You really were blessed with a great combination of our genes…” Papa sighs, shaking his head ruefully. “Not to make a disservice of your sister, since she’s thankfully turned out to be a beauty! But you’re already a looker, son. Soon enough, you’ll have a line of girls around the block, ready to date you!”

“Papaaaaaa,” Nathaniel whines, lowering his head to hide his blushing cheeks. In his embarrassment, he stumbles into Yiddish with, “ _Stop saying those type of things…! People will hear_.”

“ _Am I embarrassing you, son_?” his dad answers back in Yiddish, quite cheekily. “ _You know, you are a man now. I will not blame you if you started to date_.”

“T-T-There’s no one for me to date!” Nathaniel stutters back in English, voice jumping an octave. He shoves the last of his frozen yogurt into his mouth, to keep from having to speak anymore, face still flushed.

He feels his hair being ruffled by his dad but stays stubbornly silent to show how cross he is. “Sorry, sorry,” Papa laughs, voice thick with fondness. “How about we head back home? It seems we’ve both finished our treats.”

“’Kay,” Nathaniel grumbles out, still pouting a bit, shoving a hand in his pocket to ground himself with holding the box that contains his Miraculous. Wishing to pull some sort of strength and confidence from it. “Let’s go.”

* * *

When they get back home, Nathaniel sticks his tongue out at his dad, before running to the bathroom with a quick call of, “Thanks again, Papa!”

He feels…excited. That’s a word to describe what he’s feeling, the rush of adrenaline and the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach.

He enters the bathroom, closes the door, and locks it.

He leans against the bathroom counter, turning his head this way and that. Looking at his reflection, inspecting the plain studs in his ears that he got when his ears were pierced.

His ears still look red and swollen, and the studs don’t look anywhere near as interesting as the earrings from the Ladybug Miraculous. Or the extra pair he picked out, small and red, to sort-of match his Miraculous so his Papa wouldn’t ask where he’d gotten them once he started to wear them around.

Keeping the instructions in mind from the associate that pierced his ears, Nathaniel carefully takes his current earrings out of his ear. He riffles through the first aid kit to disinfect them, just in case, setting them aside on a paper towel.

He takes the box from his pocket and opens it once more. The Ladybug earrings glitter up at him, inviting and as brilliant as rubies.

He carefully picks one up, ready for when Tikki pops up in front of his face.

“You’re back!” the Kwami squeals excitedly, fluttering all about like a hyper child with too much sugar. “You really _did_ go to pierce your ears!”

“I told you I would,” Nathaniel says gently, a smiling creeping up his mouth. “I’m not someone that likes to lie, you know.”

“I think we’ll get along just fine, then!” Tikki nods hard, entire body bobbing with the motion, smiling wide at him. “Now, go on! Put them on and see how they look on you!”

And Nathaniel does.

* * *

He turns his head, inspecting himself in the bathroom mirror.

The Miraculous earrings look _great_ , actually. Like they _belong_ on his ears.

Tikki’s all but vibrating in place. The Kwami gives a girlish little squeal. “Awww, they look a-ma-zing on you!”

“Th-thank you, Tikki,” Nathaniel says bashfully, ducking his head a bit. He’s…not used to compliments. Or, at least, he’s not used to taking compliments from others that weren’t family members. “They feel like…like they fit _perfectly_.”

“Like they’re meant to be?” Tikki asks, almost knowingly. He nods, and Tikki’s smile seems to grow wider. “That’s how all Miraculous Holders feel, when they finally wear their Miraculous. I’m so glad!”

Nathaniel looks over himself in the mirror, angling his head to see how the Miraculous looks from different angles. They glitter prettily when the ceiling light hits them.

“Hey, Tikki…?”

“Yes?” Tikki chirps.

“Um. This is an odd question, but. Are you a boy or a girl?” he asks, quickly backpedaling, “I mean, it doesn’t really matter what gender you are, or if you have one at all! I just. Um. I-I guess I wanted to know, so I don’t accidentally call you the wrong thing…?”

“Aw, that’s really considerate of you!” Tikki giggles, bobbing in place. “Kwami are all technically genderless, but we choose our own gender presentation! I like to consider myself a girl, for example!”

“Alright,” he smiles, relaxing. He feels much better, knowing what to call Tikki in his head. “And I’m a boy.”

“I _know_ that…! You told me earlier,” Tikki giggles.

“Oh…Yeah, I guess I did, huh?”

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between them. Nathaniel smiles at himself in the reflection, pulling his bangs from his face and shoving his hair behind his ears, to show off the earrings properly.

He might actually start wearing his hair away from his face, maybe…? It was comforting to be able to hide behind his hair, when he got flustered, but. It’s the start of a new school year, right? Maybe he should try something different, something new.

“Huh. My ears aren’t red anymore,” he mutters, poking at his ear lobes experimentally. “And they don’t hurt anymore either!” he gasps in awe.

“The Miraculous allow its Holders to heal from injuries at a much faster rate, just by wearing them,” Tikki explains with a chirrup, hovering near his face to pat at his left ear. “When you transform, your costume will negate all major injuries you sustain in your superhero form! It’s essentially your armor. It will protect you while in your fights against Akuma!”

“Really…?” he asks, fascinated. If that were true for normal superheroes, that would explain why the heroes in the comics kept getting attacked but shrug off the injuries so easily.

Then again, this isn’t a comic book. It’s, still weirdly enough, _real life_.

And in real life, apparently you can’t get injured if you’re a Miraculous Holder.

Wow. No _wonder_ evil people wanted to get their hands on these things. They’re…insanely powerful and useful, aren’t they?

“Can you show me…? How to transform, I mean,” Nathaniel clarifies quickly, at Tikki’s confused look. “Just so I know how to do it, before I have to actually do it while in the middle of, like, an Akuma attack?”

Tikki seems to brighten, her smile wide. “Sure thing, Nathaniel! Repeat after me: Spots On!”

Nathaniel nods. “Spots On!”

* * *

What happens next is… _strange_ , to say the least.

Tikki disappears, sucked into the earrings, which is weird to watch in the mirror.

Then he _moves_.

It’s like his body moves on its own, completely and utterly. But the movements don’t feel strange, or foreign. They feel natural, like he’s done them a dozen—no, a hundred—times before.

Like he’s done them time and time again, a habit ingrained by a millennia of his ancestors, of all the past Miraculous Holders.

Nathaniel uses his hand to flip his hair out of his face, a gust of wind whipping about his body, as his entire form is soon engulfed in light.

His hands come up in front of his eyes, pressed together almost like he’s playing peekaboo, before parting as a red mask materializes over them.

He stretches out both his arms, clenching them as red polka-dotted gloves appear over them, spanning the length of his arms up to his elbows. From his elbows to his shoulders, and down the rest of his torso, he’s soon covered in black spandex.

Red polka-dotted, skin-tight pants appear over his hips, and he kicks both his legs out to the sides, first the left and then the right. A pair of black leather knee-length boots materializes on each foot, his pants tucked into them.

A belt materializes on his waist, and he puts his left hand against his hip, a yoyo clipped to his belt bumping up against his hand. With the other hand, he grabs at the high collar of his spandex shirt. With a movement akin that of a magician unfurling his next magic trick, he makes a motion of ripping off the collar. A thick, red scarf with black polka dots materializes as he arcs his hand diagonally across his throat and over his left shoulder, circling his hand up and behind his head.

He finally passes his hand over his right shoulder, the weight of the large scarf comforting as it rests around his neck. With a final flourish, he whips his right hand out to his side, and the rest of the scarf poofs into existence with the motion, long and trailing down past his hip.

That’s when he stops to pose with a pleased grin half-hidden behind his scarf. His left hand is on his hip by his yoyo, right hand down and extended, fingers splayed out, the scarf fluttering from his fingertips.

Well. That was certainly something, alright.

“ _Amazing_!” Tikki squeals, though Nathaniel can’t see her. “ _You’re a natural, Nathaniel!_ ”

“Thanks…” he replies, slowly, staring at himself in the mirror with his mouth agape. He gently touches his face, then his hair, noticing he suddenly has a black cowlick that’s sprung up from the crest of his head. Sort of acting like the antenna of an actual bug. It’s… surprisingly very cute, if unexpected. “Um…B-But I…don’t know where you are, right now?”

“ _Oh! I’m currently inside your head!_ ” Tikki giggles, sounding a little sheepish as she adds, “ _Sorry, I didn’t explain that properly, but…You see, when you use your Miraculous, I sort of fuse with you, in a way. It’s how I can give you powers, which allows you to transform!_ ”

“Ah, I—I see. That makes sense?” Nathaniel says, still half-distracted by looking at himself in the mirror, noticing all the changes from his normal form to this one.

He’s enjoying the color scheme going on with his new superhero identity. The red spandex really fits with his naturally red hair. As an artist, he appreciates the on-brand Aesthetics of it all.

It’s all a perfect fusion of his current character design sensibilities. Sure, the spandex isn’t an ideal material for him personally, but it’s a classic choice.

The scarf is also decidedly cute. It’s long, and warm, and it helps hide his face, alongside his bangs and the domino mask shadowing his blue eyes.

He’s glad he has a balanced design, too. The black shirt and knee-length boots really help ground the entire thing, instead of just sticking him in a full spandex suit with the ladybug motif.

Overall, he likes it. Like, _really_ likes it. It’s almost the most perfect hero costume he could have, really.

“ _Oh, oh, actually…_!” Tikki trills from his mind, sounding excited. “ _The design of your costume reflects what you’d like as your armor!_ ”

“Ooh, that’s _interesting_ ,” he breathes, feeling even more appreciative of the design choices.

After all, he’d apparently been the one to help design his current outfit. Even if subconsciously.

He’s going to tear through his sketchbooks to see if he can find any elements between his drawings and his current look. Maybe he even sketched out a beta design for his suit…! That’s so _exciting_! It’s like he’s an actual professional comic creator! Seeing his designs literally coming to life!

Nathaniel can’t help it. He bounces on his toes, and squeals. Just a little bit.

“I. Am going. To get. _So_. Much. Fanart!” he says giddily, fists clenched up by his face. “Oh. My. _Gosh_!”

He buries his face into his scarf, and lets himself do some happy yelling-slash-squealing.

Once he gets that out of his system—thankfully, no one else was around to see his weird little fanboy moment, except maybe Tikki?—he takes a deep breath, and calms himself down.

Okay, so this is. Like. _Supremely_ cool, for sure.

But there always has to be a flaw somewhere.

He likes his current costume—really, he does!—but something was…sort of bugging him.

Heh. Bugging him.

Anyways. Nathaniel isn’t exactly sure if he’s entirely comfortable with how much the spandex clings to his torso and his ass…

Honestly, the tightest clothing he remembers wearing recently, is, like. Skinny jeans.

He just hopes he doesn’t get wedgies from his spandex pants. That would be _embarrassing_.

Nathaniel backs away from the bathroom counter, turning his body to the side and angling the lower half of his body just so, standing on his tiptoes to get as much of it visible in the mirror as possible.

Is it weird to check his own ass out? Sure. But he has, like, absolutely _zero_ ass anyways. He just wants to make sure it doesn’t look completely flat as a board, back there.

It doesn’t, thankfully enough. The spandex feels a little weird, since he’s not used to wearing such tight clothing in general, but it actually does _wonders_ to make him look like he actually has a butt.

“Nice,” he nods approvingly, brushing his bangs away, only to have them instantly flop back over his eye. He huffs, making some strands flutter, but not significantly changing their configuration on his face.

Hm. That may prove to be a problem…

Because, sure, Nathaniel likes to hide behind his long bangs. But he sort of gets the feeling that obscuring half his vision isn’t going to be the smartest thing, while he’s in the middle of fighting crime.

Eh. He’ll figure it out later.

“Hey Tikki…?” he whispers awkwardly, fiddling with the yoyo attached to his belt. A yoyo for a weapon is unconventional, but he’s seen it done before, at least, so it’s not laughably terrible. “How do I, uhhhhhh, y’know. Actually transform back…?”

“ _You naturally de-transform five minutes after you’ve used your power, the Lucky Charm_ ,” Tikki starts to explain in his head. “ _But in normal situations, you can just tap an earring and say, ‘Spots Off’, and that should do the trick!_ ”

“Right,” Nathaniel nods, moving his scarf aside to tap on one of his earrings. “Spots Off!”

He’s engulfed in light once more, and then…He’s back to his normal self, in his normal clothes.

Tikki hovers in front of him, beaming wide. “So? How’d you like it?”

It doesn’t take him long to blurt out his opinion on the matter.

“That was…pretty cool, actually,” he admits, giving a breathless laugh. He feels giddy. Powerful. Even if he was only transformed for five minutes, tops, he feels like he could do _anything_.

Maybe…Maybe he can actually do this. Be a real superhero. Save the people of Paris. Just like he’d always dreamed of, always drawn in his sketchbooks.

Nathaniel Kurtzberg…a superhero.

It’s a nice thought. And he thinks it has a nice ring to it.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathaniel's costume design is based on Username8746489's ideas in this tumblr post: https://username8746489.tumblr.com/post/189911465608/second-set-of-doodles#notes  
> Also based on the fanart done by Sinnamon_Troll in this tumblr post: https://whitetigerdemoness.tumblr.com/post/189918527167/heres-a-messy-sketch-of-fortuno-and-wild-cat-for
> 
> Even though I take heavy inspiration from another fic/another author's work, I'm not going to be copying anything beat-for-beat, both in designs and characterization. Even the hero costumes in this fic has small tweaks in their designs.


	6. Putting the ‘Cat’ in Catsuit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School has been killing me, so I missed last week's update. Whoops. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> This is the last prologue chapter. Next chapter, we get some action, and the boys meet for the first time! Exciting!

* * *

Five minutes and a baffling explanation later, Marc is still just as confused as he was before.

Thankfully, he’d been quick to sink into his desk chair, because right now? He’s feeling weak-legged and incredibly faint.

And now, the panic is dropkicking its way into his mind.

“You. You want _me_? T-t-to be a _superhero_? And. And _save Paris_?” he manages to squeak out, hands clenching knuckle-white on his knees.

“Yyyyyyup!” Plagg chirps, smiling wide and toothy like the Cheshire Cat. “Congrats, kid! You’ve been chosen!”

As if that’s some sort of _honor_. Which, well, it _is_. But not one that Marc particularly wants.

“So? You wanna save Paris?” Plagg asks bluntly, staring Marc down.

Honestly, it’s incredibly unfortunate that Marc was so unfailingly polite, to the absolute letter. He had problems with saying no to people, even when it was obvious that they didn’t have his best interests in mind, and/or were just blatantly using him.

Because, really, if any other person would have been asked the question of if they wanted superpowers to save Paris, they could possibly turn it down. Or at least be confident enough to say no, if they didn’t want to be involved with this sort of _insanity_.

Marc, horribly enough, had a compulsion to say yes to just about anything, if someone asked it of him.

The thought of saying no crosses his mind—because God knows Marc wasn’t cut out to be a superhero! He couldn’t even defend himself from bullies at school! How was he supposed to just…To blindly agree to making himself responsible for the wellbeing of the entire city! To protect all of Paris!

But while his mind was logical and screaming at him to say no, his traitorous mouth opened wide and said, “Y-Yes, of course.”

He was a moron of epic proportions.

His eyes bug out, and his body finally caught up to him, slapping a hand over his mouth. But it was already too late.

The ring of the Cat Miraculous was already on his finger.

Plagg was grinning at him quite widely.

Oh. Oh _no_.

Nonononono—

“Claws Out, buddy!” Plagg cackles gleefully.

“C-Claws Out…?” Marc parrots back, quite stupidly, like a braindead _idiot_.

Come on! Who even _does_ something like this! _Gah_ …!

Marc shrieks in pure fear and frustration, launching himself to his feet and away from his desk, as the ring starts to glow a bright green.

Plagg soon disappears—somehow? It almost appears like they were was _sucked into the ring_ , and that’s _terrifying_ —and then Marc’s entire form is enveloped in green light.

* * *

Marc isn’t sure if he was astral projecting, or what. Maybe he was going back to his good ol’ time of dissociating. Maybe this was just a side effect of the Miraculous.

Either way, Marc’s body _moved_ , it’s movements fluid, almost natural. Like he’d done them a dozen times already, like it was something embedded in his very _soul_.

Like it was something meant to be, a habit ingrained by a millennia of his ancestors.

Marc felt himself smile wide, swiping a finger across his eyes, from temple to temple. A mask materializes over his eyes, following the path his finger traces, his eyes burning slightly and vision getting _sharper_ , somehow.

He passes a hand over his unkept hair and feels silky cat ears push with his hand, before standing up at attention.

He clenches and flexes his hands, feeling his nails elongate into claws, covered in his usual fingerless gloves. But somehow, the texture of a similar cloth extends to cover his forearms, as well.

Next, he places his hands splayed out against his throat, as if he’s gently holding it. He feels smooth leather of a collar, before his hands move down, passing over the cold metal of a ball, eliciting the clear chime of a bell. They travel down past his collarbones, covered in thin mesh.

And then, quite possibly the most embarrassing part happens.

His hands smoothing over the front of his chest as his back naturally arches up with the movement, hands skipping over leather, except for what feels like a strange hole just above his chest. His hands travel down—naturally, almost _sensually_ —to the end of the crop-top, smoothing over thin mesh material appearing on his stomach. His hands end on his hips, covered very sparsely with a pair of shorts that feel shorter and ride lower on his hips than he expects.

Which is when he suddenly executes a perfect high kick. He lingers in the position, leg stretched high, toes perfectly pointed skywards. A pair of boots take its place on his feet and traveling down towards his thighs, nearly covering his entire legs in the process. What stretch of skin isn’t covered by his thigh-high boots and shorts soon has a thin mesh material, like what’s on his stomach.

He kicks downward, pivoting his body, and a tail juts from the base of his spine made from a belt, wrapping itself around his shorts. It arcs dangerously, sudden and sharp, like a whip.

As his belt-tail cuts through the air, a shortened, black baton appears clipped on the small of his back. A pair of slackened green suspenders arc crisscross over his hips, sort of mimicking the way he wears his extra belts with his ripped jeans.

And for some Godforsaken reason, he raises his hands up to his face, curling his clawed hands in the universal gesture of a cat. With a wink and a vocalized little “ _meow_ ”, to top it all off.

Which is when the ‘transformation’ _finally_ ends.

* * *

Marc gasps, snapping out of the trance he was in, blinking wildly.

That…was _different_.

It wasn’t like anything he’s ever experienced. Not even when he dissociates, does he ever feel that disconnected, but aware.

Marc shakes his head, as if trying to clear fog from his mind, staring down at his hands.

His nails are still painted black, but they’re sharp claws, about an inch long. He flexes his hands, and the nails scrape his palms a bit, but somehow don’t scratch his skin or cause any puncture wounds.

He hears a low whistle. Whipping his head up, Marc looks around himself.

Plagg…is nowhere to be found.

“ _I’m actually in here, in your head_ ,” he hears Plagg snicker. “ _I’m giving you your powers, so that means I’ve sort of…fused with you, I guess?_ ”

“O-oh…Oh _God_ ,” Marc breathes, feeling horrified.

“ _Hey_!” Plagg sputters. “ _Don’t be like that! And anyways, you look pretty cool right now, if I do say so myself. You’re **welcome**._”

Marc blinks, pivoting to the floor-length mirror in his room, to get a better look at himself.

And he stares.

When he’d thought about becoming a superhero, his mind flashed to spandex, or leather, or literal armor.

What’s on his body in none of those things, he thinks.

The outfit is ebony black, which matches his hair, and his overall aesthetic sensibilities of black accessories he tends to wear. But that’s the only thing he enjoys.

He looks…He’s…

Oh God, he can think up of like, five words right now to describe how he looks, and… not all of them are exactly pleasant.

He decides to go with _skimpy_ , for now. That’s a relatively safe term. He thinks.

It’s not like he hates the outfit, either! It’s a very nice outfit. It looks pretty cool, actually. Dangerous and sensual, and a little playful to boot. He can see a model wearing it and strutting down the runway.

The only problem is that he, himself, is not a model. Nor is he confident enough to wear such a bold outfit. Sure, he wishes he could do so someday, when he’s older, but…

Well. He’s not exactly sure if this outfit is exactly _appropriate_ , for someone who’s fourteen.

He’s essentially wearing a crop top and booty shorts. Yes, there’s embellishments, and most of his skin that isn’t covered by the main parts of his outfit is covered by mesh and his boots, but still. It’s the most succinct way to summarize his crime-fighting outfit.

“Plagg…?” he starts to ask, voice strangled.

“ _Yeah, what_?” Plagg answers, curt.

“W-why is. Um,” Marc struggles to find the words to use. “W-why is my costume so…so…”

He gulps, and spits out the word as quickly and quietly as possible, a hissing whisper of, “Horny?”

His face feels like it’s on fire. He stares at himself in the mirror. He looks just as mortified as he feels, face beet red behind his mask.

“ _Huh? Horny_?” Plagg asks, confusion thick in their voice. “ _You don’t have any sort of horns on your costume, silly! You’re a cat!_ ”

“Ohhhhhh my God,” Marc whines, burying his face in his hands.

“ _What are you on about, huh?_ ” Plagg demands, obviously still bamboozled.

“I-I-I’m _not_ going to tell you what b-being horny is!” Marc hisses out through his fingers, feeling like he wants to die. He knows he hasn’t died from embarrassment before, but there’s always a first time for everything, right? Right.

“ _Hey, are you complaining? Is that why you’re acting weird? Stop complaining_!” Plagg whines in his mind. “ _Your Miraculous outfit reflects your own desires, and what you’d want as a set of protective armor!_ ”

“ _Really_?” Marc squeaks, eyes bugging wide. “Th-that’s…”

He stares at himself in the mirror, awkwardly rotating himself this way and that, taking in different angles of his _interesting_ outfit.

“I look…h-hot?” he mutters, face still red, but. There’s something almost…Exciting. About the outfit he wears. “Is that…Is that what I _want_? T-to look…hot? Desirable?”

“ _Beats me, kid_ ,” Plagg drawls. “ _It’s **your** outfit. You tell me_.”

“I-I mean, I guess…I guess so?” Marc goes on, muttering under his breath, as he smooths his hands over various pieces of his outfit. “This looks like something straight from a fashion magazine, or an aesthetic fashion blog, or something. Something I wish I could pull off some day, b-but…”

He bites his lip, startles as he sees the sharp, elongated canine poking out of his mouth. He pulls back his lips in an awkward, gritted grin. It’s absolutely _fascinating_ how much his teeth, of all things, have changed.

It looks like he hasn’t smudged his lipstick, either. His apparently _magically transforming_ lipstick, which instead of being the pink he normally wears, is now a shade of green to match his eyes.

Oh, and his eyes are also kinda freaky. They’re the same vibrant green, but his pupil is a dark green and in the shape of a slit, like a cat’s eye. Plus, his entire sclera is a light green, and that’s. Freaky. But cool.

Marc is starting to quickly get the idea that that’s what this entire situation boils down to, including his hero transformation: Freaky, but cool.

“I feel like a Victoria’s Secret runway model with too much time on their hands,” he snorts, giggling in spite of himself. “Seriously, no one can naturally change their sclera color, and those full-sclera contacts are really painful to put on, apparently…”

The bell on his throat jingles. “And I like chokers, but this entire collar is sort of a choker…?” _Jingle jingle_ , goes the bell. He giggles again.

Actually, there’s a lot of parts about this hero costume that he likes, on second glance. It’s just that it feels a little…tight and revealing.

The mesh on his stomach and legs is a light grey and a little see-through. But mesh is always see-through. The only parts of his costume that shows his actual skin are his upper arms, and his face…

Everything important is covered, really. It _may_ essentially be a crop top and shorts, but at least his junk or butt aren’t open in the breeze, and his guy-tiddies aren’t out, even with the chest window in play.

“I-I think the most egregious part is the—the ch-chest window,” he mutters, because, _really_. It’s not even covered in mesh like the space that’s connecting his collar to his crop top. It’s not serving any sort of purpose, either.

Unless he’s supposed to, like. Seduce the enemy.

Which, _hard pass_. He’s _fourteen_. He shouldn’t be seducing anything other than his muse to write more stories— and half the time it was more like he had to wrestle with his dumb monkey brain to get anything down on paper.

Though he admits, the aesthetic of the outfit itself is _killer_. It’s like all his ideas for his self-insert story about being a cool and mysterious catboy vigilante were coming to life.

Though is that really a good thing…? Will he be stuck with this outfit for the foreseeable future, and his future self will hate it? He hates some of his older stories from even a year ago, after all. This might be, like. A bad phase, or something…

Oh, but the _fanart_ …! What if he gets fanart? That would be _sweet_. His hero persona would _definitely_ get fanart.

The thought makes him perk up, feeling pretty excited, actually. He bounces on his toes a bit, bell jingling along with the movement, and he carefully place his hands on his cheeks, making sure to keep his elongated nails away from anything important.

And then he squeals. Just a bit.

The euphoria finally hits, giving him that sweet, sweet serotonin.

He has _superpowers_ , and he has a _hero outfit_ , and for _once_ in his life he looks _cool_ and _hot_ , and he actually _enjoys_ how he looks and feels. He’s going to be a _hero_! And, and—people are going to _love_ him, and _write_ about him, and make _fanart_ of him.

He claps his hands together and squeals a little louder, doing a little dance in place. He has enough self-awareness to realize it’s embarrassing and is glad that no one else is around to see him fanboying like he is, but _damn_ it! He’s excited, for once! About this entire crazy situation! And he’s going to ride on that euphoria for as long as he can!

“Se! Ro! To! Nin! Se! Ro! To! Nin!” he chants under his breath, clapping with each syllable. “ _Se! Ro! To! Nin!_ ”

“ ** _What_** _are you doing…?_ ” Plagg demands from his mind, sounding exasperated. “ _Geeze, kid, your emotions are so over the place…! You like this all the time?_ ”

“Fuck off. I’m happy, right now,” he mutters, quite bluntly, through gritted teeth. He swings his hips to make his belt-tail-thing swish— and is then absolutely _delighted_ when it straight-up raises in the air and _wags_ , like an actual cat’s tail. He giggles. “This is making me happy. Let. Me. Have. This.”

“ _Alright, alright, yeesh_ ,” Plagg harrumphs moodily, but actually shuts up without another peanut gallery quip.

“Now…time to find every cat-person meme video, and re-enact it,” Marc decides, just because he can. Because, fuck it. He’s a literal catboy right now. Might as well get as much out of this as he can, before shit officially hits the fan, and he has to go out and save lives.

“Now, which one first…Caramelldansen? That one’s a classic, let’s go with that—”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was imagining Marc's transformation being a cross between Chat Noir's in canon and Ichigo's from the anime Tokyo Mew Mew. If you don't know what TMM is, youtube search the transformation sequences.  
> Marc's final pose especially I was referencing to Mew Mew Ichigo like here (https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/tokyomewmewfanon/images/3/33/Mew_Ichigo%21.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20110105010835)
> 
> I really liked the concepts for Marc's costume from Username8746489 and Sinnamon Troll, but I feel like Marc isn't ready yet to be Horny on Main. Thus, the added mesh/skin covering parts. (Though he'd definitely rock it in the future, I have no doubts.)
> 
> Maybe one day I'll draw the boys' costumes, but that day is not the day....
> 
> Once again, Username8746489's ideas: https://username8746489.tumblr.com/post/189911465608/second-set-of-doodles#notes  
> Also based on the fanart done by Sinnamon_Troll in this tumblr post: https://whitetigerdemoness.tumblr.com/post/189918527167/heres-a-messy-sketch-of-fortuno-and-wild-cat-for


	7. New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, remember how I said that this fic was going to be anthology stories...? Well uh. I was wrong. I already have like 6 chapters written just detailing the First Akuma attack. Because it's the inciting incident for the kids, and thusly one of the more important ones.
> 
> After THAT, hopefully episodes will be short enough to fit in one or two chapters akfdjkal
> 
> Also. I sort of wrote too much about Marc. So instead of this chapter being a Nathaniel chapter like the previous order of the fic so far, it's a Marc chapter that I split up.
> 
> I don't know what I'm doing anymore guys, I'm just in it for the ride.

* * *

Marc tumbles out of his bed, jolted awake and wild-eyed, as Mama Carmen urgently knocks on his bedroom door.

“Marc, you’re going to be late…! It’s past seven-thirty already!”

Marc curses softly under his breath, stumbling his way over on still half-asleep legs to the door to yank it open.

“Oh, _mijo_ ,” Mama snorts, reaching out a tanned hand to smooth out his wild bedhead. “You look like a mess. Go and get changed, I’ll start the car.”

“Sorry! Thanks!” Marc squeaks out, barely remembering to close and lock his door before diving for his closet.

Normally, he would wear skinny jeans. But it always takes a bit of finagling to get them on, not to mention his added belts he likes to have, and he just doesn’t have the time right now. So he opts for a pair of black track pants, grabs a random t-shirt from his collection that’s black to match his pants, and yanks on his favorite red hoodie.

He’s going to the bathroom, trying to brush his teeth and thread a comb through his hair at the same time. The comb gets snagged, he nearly chokes on his toothpaste, and decides his hair is normally a wild rat’s nest anyways, so he just uses his fingers to quickly flatten his flyaways down.

He’s already so well-practiced at his usual makeup routine that he gets through the very basics in two minutes flat. Nothing fancy, just mascara and eyeliner, some concealer to cover the bags under his eyes, and his go-to lipstick. Then he’s running back to his room for his backpack and journal.

He double-checks that the Cat Miraculous ring is on still snugly on his finger, whips his head around, and dives for the baby demon cat still curled up in the covers. Or rather, Kwami, apparently.

Yesterday evening, Marc had interrogated Plagg for any and all pertinent information in his role of future protector of Paris.

He hadn’t exactly gotten as many answers as he’d like, because Plagg was lazy and easily distracted and not one for straight answers. But he’d written everything down in a small notebook he slipped into a bottom corner of his bookcase, hidden carefully. Plagg wasn’t much for explanations, but Marc did his best to write down things to decipher later, if need be.

And Plagg’s answers were weirdly alien and half-answers at best, so he’d probably be doing a _lot_ of deciphering later.

“You’re coming to school with me, okay, Plagg?” Marc whispers, gently shoving the little cat into his hoodie’s pocket, much to the Kwami’s grumbling.

“ _Whyyyyy_?” Plagg whines, already batting his way out of the hoodie.

“We talked about this yesterday,” Marc hisses back, panic at being late curbing his usual meek and polite nature. As he looks through his backpack to double-check everything he needed was in there, he adds, “I packed extra cheese in my lunch for you today, too—”

“Cheese?” Plagg asks, already perking up and hovering in front of him. “Where? Where’s the cheese?”

“ _Mijo_ …!” Mama calls from downstairs.

“ _Coming_!” Marc yells back, voice cracking with the force of it, zipping up his backpack and shouldering it on. “I’ll feed you some later, just hide for now,” he tells the suddenly awake Kwami.

“But I want it _now_ —”

“I’ll feed you right after I eat, okay, now _please hide_ ,” Marc presses, feeling like a frazzled new owner of a reticent and sassy cat.

“Fine, fine,” Plagg huffs, before finally doing so. “Your pockets are _tiny_ ,” comes the Kwami’s muffled, bitchy response.

“I’ll buy a bigger hoodie later,” he promises offhandedly in an undertone, tugging his fingerless gloves on, glad he hasn’t forgotten them. He’s then running out his room and sliding down the stairs’ banister, to cut down on time, landing in the living room.

“Stop sliding down the stairs! You’ll hurt yourself!” Mama chides, half exasperated and half worried, as she hands him his combat boots. Marc quickly toes them on, stuffing the ends of his pants into them for Aesthetic Purposes, and tightens the laces. When he pops back up, she shoves a still warm, homemade breakfast burrito in his hand, wrapped up in a paper towel. 

“ _Ándale_ , we’ll just make it in time,” Mama bustles him out the door, only pausing to lock their apartment up. She all but sprints over to the driver’s side, opening the door and sliding into her seat, her ponytail almost smacking Marc in the arm in her haste.

When they’re both settled in the car, she hands Marc a plastic bag that’s resting on the crook of her arm.

“The rest of your breakfast, plus your lunchbox,” she rattles off, already clicking on her seat belt and pulling out of their parking spot when Marc sputters out a ‘thank you’. “It’s a good thing we’re just a ten minute drive from your new school, or else you’d be making a bad impression so early…”

“S-Sorry…” Marc mutters sheepishly around the burrito shoved in his mouth. A bit of frantic chewing happens while he digs around the bag holding his breakfast.

Orange juice, pan dulce, apple. Weird combo, but that’s what happens when he wakes up so late he’s almost missing school, he supposes.

All but devouring the breakfast burrito, Marc pulls out the plastic bottle of orange juice, cracks it open, and drinks half the Sunny D in a go.

Then nearly gags at the strangely sharp, sickeningly sweet zing as the orange juice mixes with his still freshly brushed teeth.

This is why he brushes teeth _after_ breakfast. For this exact reason. Yuck.

“ _Mijo_ …?”

“M’fine,” he says. Like a liar.

To distract his mouth and mask the conflicting and horrid taste of mingled orange juice and mint with something else, he starts to tear into the pan dulce like a ferocious wolf tearing into a carcass. Or something.

“ _Te vas a ahogar_ ,” Mama chides in a vaguely amused, vaguely long-suffering way, glittering brown eyes darting over to him quickly before returning to the road.

Honestly, the only thing Marc will choke on is his anxiety, _thank you very much_.

“ _Mm mff mn_ ,” Marc says smartly in reply, cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk, when in reality he meant to say, “No I won’t.”

* * *

As he’s re-applying his lipstick, Mama decides to pull up right in front of one of the entrances of Dupont, instead of bothering to find a parking spot, to cut down on time.

Marc can’t even tell which entrance it is they’re stopped at. The East one? He thinks it’s maybe the East one. Bushes big enough to shove a small child into them lines the pathway, as a strange choice of landscaping.

“Thanks Mama, see you later,” Marc quickly recites, already half out the car before Mama can grab his face and kiss his cheek and tell him lovingly about how much she loves him and believes in him, like she tends to as a send-off.

“Good luck!” she says instead, giving a little wave, seemingly more concerned about Marc getting to school on time than getting her usual goodbye kiss. Which is both relieving and disappointing.

He blows her a kiss anyways, to which she pretends to catch, smiling wide and pleased.

He’s _such_ a mama’s boy… But it’s honestly impossible _not_ to be, when he has _two_ awesome moms.

With her encouraging smile to fuel him, Marc shoulders his backpack and sprints across the sidewalk.

He has four minutes until class starts, he notes while jogging through the halls and passing by a hanging clock. He also doesn’t know the school well enough, as its barely his second day, to know where the fuck he’s going.

_Great_.

And of course, the very _second_ he doesn’t keeps his eyes in front of him, he rams right into someone.

“H-Hey!”

“Sorry!” Marc sputters instantly, already backing away from the person he collided with.

“ _Oh. He’s cute_ ,” the thought flits across his mind while looking down at the shorter boy he’d rammed into—bright red hair, long bangs covering an eye, and _wow_ that’s such an aesthetically nice hairstyle— before his embarrassment erupts.

“I’m so sorry!” Marc exclaims again, ducking his head, his face going as red as his hoodie. Or as red as the other boy’s hair.

“U-Um, alright. Maybe—"

And like a complete coward that he is, he turns tail and runs off, before he can hear the cute boy he almost knocked down berate him.

“ _Great job, Marc! Already making a bad impression on the people here!_ ” he thinks, harried and panicked. He doesn’t even know if he’s going in the right direction, anymore.

Mind spiraling, he ducks into a nearby single-room bathroom for a hot second. He leans against the door, face flushed and panting, feeling gross and sweaty and embarrassed.

He’s not even sure how much time he last left before class, but. It’s not like he even knows where he’s going in the first place…So maybe he can give himself a minute to gather himself.

This way, he can look for his map and schedule buried in his backpack. He’d rather have a little privacy anyway, to panic over his schedule. This way he’s not standing around in the middle of the hallway to make a scene and clog the pathway. Or worse yet, almost knock _another_ person down. So, really this is a good compromise.

And hey, if he happens to fall into a panic attack, he’s already in a convenient spot to have one?

While muttering and yanking things from his backpack, Plagg’s escaped and dove for Marc’s lunch bag, which. Alright, fine, that’s fine. Plagg needs to eat, too.

While in the middle of worrying, he hears a resounding roar and crash loud enough that his heart all but leaps out his throat.

“What the _hell_?!” Marc yelps, almost flinging his school supplies across the gender neutral bathroom.

He carefully cracks the door open, and. There’s. A monster. Down the hallway. A giant rock monster, crashing through the courtyard.

_Fuck_.

Marc instantly slams the door closed and whips around to look for Plagg. “A-A-Akuma!”

“Aw _man_ , and I was just getting started…” Plagg sighs, already finished with his portion of cheese, and having apparently been ready to eat the entirety of Marc’s lunch.

“Plagg, Claws Out!” Marc manages to say through his panic.

* * *

One (still super new and super cool) transformation later, and Marc was dressed as a cat-themed superhero.

He stumbles, lurching to pick up all his shit and shove it back in his backpack. Which. He has to find a place to keep, since he can’t exactly drag his backpack with him while crime-fighting.

He can worry about it later. Maybe he can just. Leave it in a bush, or something?

Marc’s eyes whip about the bathroom—the sounds outside are getting ever louder and more chaotic, and like _hell_ is he going to step out and instantly get smashed by the Akuma.

There. Near the ceiling, a row of small windows. Marc shifts his bag onto just one shoulder, unhooks his baton, and decides that trying to pole-vault now may hurt less than later, and goes for it.

He nearly brains himself on the ceiling—completely over-estimating just how far his baton could extend— but after a bit of maneuvering and balancing, he’s got on elbow on the window ledge. Like this, he can work one of the window’s latches, pushing the window open, with only a little bit of discomfort.

It’s a good thing he’s a noodle, or else it would be a _lot_ harder to leave through these small windows…

Feeling like he’s some sort of hero in a spy movie, Marc lets his bag drop first, before shimmying his way out.

Looking around himself, he hears more rumbling, but—it sounds like it’s on the other side of the school, almost. Nothing else is happening where he’s at.

Marc quickly skitters towards on outside corner of Dupont, keeping low to the ground. He peaks around the corner, and seeing no one around, places his backpack into a bush as gently as possible to make up for his previous manhandling.

Then he’s running across the street to duck behind a car, carefully hiding behind the line of parked vehicles as he makes a sweep around the block.

His ears and eyes are both going haywire. The cat ears on the top of his head are twitching every which way, and his eyes feel like they _burn_ before he all but narrows down on a path of destruction.

The Akuma is a stone giant and very, very big, is the first thing he notices. Two, it’s chasing someone. Three, it’s surprisingly making good distance.

He needs a better vantage point.

Marc looks down at the black baton still grasped in his white-knuckled grip.

Jumping to the bathroom ceiling had been easy. The baton extended until it was nearly the height of the room itself.

Jumping on the rooftop of a building will be _completely_ different…

“ _Just relax. Your body will know what to do_ ,” Plagg instructs from inside his mind, rather unhelpfully.

But.

Marc didn’t overthink it, before. And he’d still managed to use his abilities.

Everything was… _natural_ , almost.

So maybe…He just. Needs to turn his brain off, for a little bit. Not so much that he won’t be able to function, but just enough that he won’t feel the usual crippling fear and anxiety and can go through the motions.

Like how he gets when he’s in the middle of writing. Aware of what he’s creating, but letting his muse drive him until he finally runs out of energy.

“ _C’mon. Use your baton to help you up on the roofs_ ,” Plagg adds, sounding impatient. “ _Stop standing around…_!”

Alright.

Alright, fine. He. He will.

He can do this.

Marc breathes in, breathes out, and lets his muse take over.

He lances himself on the rooftops, and then he _flies_.

* * *

The euphoria makes him giddy.

The wind in his hair, his heart soaring as far as his body, running across the rooftops and lancing himself across with his baton.

It felt freeing. Amazing. Unbelievable. _Indescribable_.

It also doesn’t last for long.

Of course it doesn’t. But it was good while it lasted.

* * *

The Akuma is roaring and stomping its way down the street, full of cars and pedestrians. And this is something that Marc can’t exactly ignore, even while he enjoys the feeling of crossing the skyline of Paris.

A cacophony of honks and screams rent the air, loud enough that they pierce through his heart beating in his ears.

Thankfully enough, the citizens seem smart enough to throw themselves out of their cars when the stone giant strides forwards, wading through traffic.

But. There’s one car in particular that stands out, stalled in the middle of traffic.

Marc instantly recognizes his Mama’s car, dark blue, with the dent in the left of the front bumper. With its stickers and decals on the car doors and windows. With the rear window with those little family-themed stickers, two ladies for his moms and one boy for him. With a little rainbow flag flying from the antenna.

How could he not? He helped Mama decorate the car himself. His moms never wanted to give it a paint job, because he liked putting stickers where the nicks and bumps and paint rubbed off.

It’s the car he’s ridden in the most, the one that’s driven him and picked him up from school for the majority of his life.

It’s Mama Carmen’s car, and _his Mama is still inside_.

Marc’s body moves on autopilot, heart thrumming staccato. Blood rushes in his ears. Everything feels like it slows down, his vision tunneling, to Mama’s car, Mama, Mama nonono _Mama_ —

He jumps from the roof onto the head of the stone giant, knocking its trajectory away from Mama’s car right before it could step right on it.

He backflips off the giant, landing half-crouched on the hood of Mama’s car and barely keeping himself from skidding right off the other side, one gloved hand down and gripping for purchase and balance.

Marc hears the sirens of police cars wailing in the distance, but it feels like cotton is in his ears, almost dream-like. He whirls around, staring at his Mama through the car’s windshield and—

She stares back in awe, brown eyes blown wide, but without an ounce of recognition on her face.

_How_ …?

“ _Three o’clock_!” Plagg yelps in his mind, and Marc snaps his body nearly in half with how quickly he bends backwards. A large, rocky fist _whooshes_ past him, loose pebbles skittering across his chest. One even slides down crop top, having landed in his chest window.

Marc flips away, body twisting and turning naturally, even though he himself is physically unable to contort himself this quickly when he’s a civilian. He’s naturally flexible—even took gymnastics when he was younger—but he’s out of practice. And the physicality he currently has would give Olympic medalist gymnasts a run for their money.

Marc uses his baton to lance himself over another rapidly swinging rocky fist.

Around him, people are screaming, getting out of their cars and running en-masse. He chances a glance over his shoulder to see Mama running away, going against the crowd.

His first thought is a panicked, “ _What is she **doing**?! She’s going to get trampled!_”

And then he realizes that she’s running back towards the direction of Dupont.

_Shit_. She’s going to be looking for him.

It can’t be helped. He can’t stop her right now.

The police sirens sound like they’re getting closer, though. He has backup.

So Marc, like a total coward, turns tail and runs towards the sirens.

* * *

“Catch me if you can! Bet you can’t, you dumb rock!” Marc goads the Akuma, taunting. He’s half-terrified and half-pleased when the Akuma roars angrily at him, lumbering after him.

The teenage boy the Akuma had been chasing earlier is nowhere to be seen. Good. Hopefully, he managed to blend in with the crowd of fleeing civilians, and the stone giant won’t be going after him any longer.

Marc runs and runs, looking over his shoulder so he can dodge the occasional swing while he absconds.

The patrol cars are coming perpendicular from where the crowd was heading, thankfully. That makes things less messy; he’s not leading the Akuma through a crowd of helpless civilians, but to the police.

“Get out of the way, kid…!” yells one of the police officers on a megaphone, when Marc careens around the corner running full tilt, the Akuma following hot on his (literal) tail.

Deciding to follow through with the order like the good citizen he is, Marc uses his baton to lance himself sideways into a nearby alleyway, out of sight. And then scales the side of the building.

Then and there, he decides that he needs a little time and distance to regroup.

“ _What are you doing…?!_ ” Plagg shrieks in his mind, and Marc grits his teeth in discomfort at how it makes his brain rattle. It feels. Physically discomfiting, to say the least. “ _The Akuma’s the other way!_ ”

“I need reinforcements!” Marc huffs out, panting and exhausted, nearly collapsing behind an AC unit. No matter how much the Cat Miraculous boosts his natural physical capabilities, it can’t make up for his lack of stamina, it seems. “This…Is…My first…Time…!”

Ha. _That’s what he said_ , says a hysterical little voice in the back of his mind.

“ _Only someone with a Miraculous can defeat the Akuma!_ ” Plagg presses, sounding for once like he was genuinely _worried_ instead of just annoyed. “ _Sure, you need the Ladybug Miraculous to Purify the Akuma and heal all the damage, but—_ ”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Marc pants, clutching at his chest, feeling his heart nearly beat out of his chest. “Ladybug Miraculous? That’s _here_?”

“ _Oh, yeah. Didn’t I mention it before…?_ ”

“ _Mentioned_ ,” Marc stresses, between heaving gulps of air. “Didn’t specify. At _all_ , really.”

“ _Yeah, well. The Ladybug Miraculous is here, and you’ll have a partner that’ll help you fight Akuma_.” Neat. “ _You can destroy an Akuma by destroying where its power comes from. But if you don’t purify it, then it’ll be free to infect another victim and reform again_.” Not neat. “ _So, you need to have the Ladybug Miraculous help you_.”

“Okay,” Marc says, because he can’t really say anything else. Just. _Okay_. “Should I wait for them to arrive…?”

“ _Eh, maybe?_ ” Plagg says, with a mental shrug, which is Decidedly Not Helpful. But maybe Plagg is done with meeting his quota of being helpful for today, Marc can’t help but think, a bit uncharitably.

He’ll wait until the Holder of the Ladybug Miraculous gets here to help him, then. He has no other choice. He’s out of his depth.

At least, he’ll wait for five—maybe ten— minutes.

The Ladybug Holder better get here soon…

If not, he’ll have to take things into his own hands. And Marc’s not exactly looking forwards to that.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish terms:  
> Mijo= A word that’s a combination of ‘mi hijo’, which is “my son”. Mijo is a more familiar way to say ‘son’.  
> Ándale= A word that means “let’s go” or to “hurry up”.  
> Pan dulce= Literally translating to ‘sweet bread’. They’re usually pastries. They can be eaten for breakfast.  
> Te vas a ahogar= Means “You’re going to choke”


	8. A First Time For Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I had this chapter finished, but then I realized that it was tied very closely to the next chapter that I hadn't even finished writing askdjakl So I ended up finishing them both.
> 
> Also, for like an entire week and a half I was stuck without any internet access or much time to write, so that didn't help.
> 
> Let's get back to The Boys TM

* * *

Ivan, from Nathaniel’s class, gets Akumatized right as their first class starts.

If Nathaniel were to hear this very descriptor even last week, he wouldn’t know what the _hell_ you’d meant.

As it is, he’d found a magical set of earrings hosting a tiny Ladybug demigod that can turn him into a superhero.

The fact that it only took _one literal fucking day_ for there to be trouble is par for the course, really, for the absolute dumpster fire that is now Nathaniel Kurtzberg’s life.

If he was going to become a superhero, might as well throw as many cliché tropes into his life as possible! Like barely earning his superpowers, and then the very next day, having to put up with a bullshit villain attack!

“Kim, you absolute _dumbass_!” Alix shrieks, already zooming across the chaotic classroom on her custom-designed Heelies™ she got on her latest birthday, as small and fast as a bullet.

“Who’s the dumb one now, huh, Kim…?!” Ivan roars, voice echoing and gravel-like, matching his new form of a giant rock-monster. He brings a huge fist up, and Kim yelps, barely dodging out of the way of the hit.

The fist smashes into Kim’s desk, breaking it into smithereens. Rose and Juleka shriek as they throw themselves away from their own desk—placed unfortunately right behind Kim’s— trying to cover their heads with their arms to protect themselves from the shrapnel. Max has managed to dive his way to join the two girls, barely missing the shrapnel as well.

The three huddle together in a quivering and terrified group, Juleka subtly trying to shield the shorter two with her body, eyes wide and glittering with mingled fear and awe.

Shit. _Fuck_. All Nathaniel’s friends were in trouble.

Maybe there’s a way to talk the Akumatized Ivan down?

“Ivan, you don’t have to do this!” Nathaniel calls out with his hands raised in the air in placation, already moving away from his desk, trying to slowly make his way across the back wall of the class. Thankfully, there’s an exit right next to where he sits, and Tikki’s snuck inside his sports jacket. If he needs to get out, he can, even if it’ll be a little weird running through the connected classroom to do it. “ _Please_ , Ivan! You don’t have to hurt anyone…!”

The stone giant swivels his head over to Nathaniel, and he freezes in place from pure fear. Damn it damn it _damn it_! He’d forgotten he goes absolutely still and silent when he’s afraid…!

The giant seems to consider him for a few moments, before grumbling out, “I don’t got a problem with you.”

Thankfully, when the giant turns back around, Kim’s already parkoured his way over another desk and is leaping down the stairs to exit the classroom through the front door.

Nathaniel takes this as his cue. He scrambles to the exit that connects his Homeroom class to Ms. Mendeleiev’s Homeroom. Ms. Mendeleiev is the teacher he likes the least, but damn it, drastic times call for drastic measures…!

“There’s a giant stone monster, everyone, stay back!” he yells, nearly tumbling down the small set of steps right outside the door in his haste, ignoring the class that’s half-frozen in their seats and half gathered at the windows to watch the ensuing madness of an Akumatized Ivan going after a sprinting Kim.

“W-What is the meaning of all this?!” Ms. Mendeleiev sputters out in a demand, eyes wide behind her glasses.

Without really thinking about it, Nathaniel runs over and shoves his way through the gaggle of students at the door, one hand over his side to protect Tikki from getting jostled and squished in the madness. “Sorry, s’cuse me, need to get to my friends, see if they haven’t gotten killed—”

The second he’s in the hall, he sprints down it, mind whirring. He needs a place to transform. _Fuck_ , he needs an empty place, and _fast_ —

Bathroom!

He dives into the single-room gender neutral bathroom, which is thankfully unlocked and unoccupied.

For some reason, it’s _cold_. Nathaniel’s eyes flit about the small space.

There’s a line of windows at the top of the room, small and near the ceiling. One of them is shoved open.

“Who the _hell_ would be able to get up there, much less fit through one of those?!” Nathaniel hisses, momentarily distracted.

“You can wonder about that later!” Tikki admonishes him, wriggling out of Nathaniel’s sports jacket. “It’s time to save your friends, Nathaniel…!”

He shakes his head to center himself. “Right. You’re right.” He takes a breath, before calling out, “Tikki, Spots On!”

* * *

One transformation later—which is still a little weird and really exciting to go through— and Nathaniel stumbles out of the bathroom as a ladybug-themed superhero.

He’s not sure how far Ivan’s gotten, in the time it took for him to find a place to transform, but he runs to the nearest exit to see if he can find a good vantage point.

When he exits, he hears the blaring of car alarms and police sirens in the near distance. Oh, _hell in a handbasket_.

“Tikki, what should I do?” he hisses out, ducking into one of the conveniently nearby bushes that line some of the exits of Dupont, and is just about the right size for a teenager to hide in. A strange aesthetic choice for shrubbery and landscaping, but it’s working in his favor, right now. He needs to give himself some cover and time to talk to his Kwami without looking like some sort of lunatic; as if the ladybug-themed getup isn’t any indication to an outsider of him being super fucking weird and not at all normal.

The police should be able to hold off the Akuma for now—or at the very least provide a distraction, even if it sounds fucked-up to think. That will buy him a little time, he hopes.

He’s not sure how much ground he can cover on-foot, and Ivan turned into a large monster that allows him to cover larger distances than normal with his strides.

Maybe his Miraculous gives him the power to fly…? Because ladybugs can fly and all? That would certainly be a useful ability to have.

“ _Use your yoyo! You can swing your way up the rooftops!_ ” Tikki offers in his mind.

Orrrrrr not. Welp.

“Cool cool cool…Wait, _what_? How can a _yoyo_ be able to do that? What type of anime bullshit logic—”

“ _Just trust me!_ ”

“Alright, alright, fine! But if I fall to my death, I’m blaming you!” he hisses out, harsh because of his panic, hand moving to the yoyo clipped to his belt. He fumbles with it, looking down dubiously at the mundane-looking item in his hands. It’s red with black polka dots, more of an innocent kid’s toy than a weapon.

Well. If he dies, he dies.

Nathaniel awkwardly pops back out of the bush, and slings the yoyo towards the rooftop of Dupont, like he’s trying to chuck a baseball during P.E.

Unlike P.E. class— where Nathaniel is decidedly underwhelming and pretty bad at physical activities—his pitch manages to actually go a decent distance like how he wants.

The yoyo arcs, wrapping around a jutting part of the cobblestone roof. Nathaniel tugs on the line, feeling dumb as he does so.

Nothing happens.

He backs up a bit, taking a running start and sort of jumping and tugging on the line and—

The yoyo retracts, and whizzes him up on the rooftop, like he’s a puppet yanked on a string.

He fumbles a bit on the landing, but thankfully doesn’t fall right off the roof. That would not only be painful, but embarrassing, he’s sure.

Nathaniel’s not exactly the most athletic person to begin with, even if the Miraculous _does_ enhance his body’s physical capabilities. Plus, while it may be nice how his costume’s boots make him taller with their two-inch soles, they’re also… not exactly the most _practical_ things to keep him stable, he’s finding.

Though, it could certainly be worse. He could be wearing _heels_ , like so many unfortunate female superheroines in comics. At the very least, his boots are weighted, even with the platform aspect in play.

All in all…

Okay. Alright. That wasn’t _too_ bad. He just needs some practice.

“ _See, that wasn’t **too** bad_!” Tikki chirps, encouraging and ironically mirroring his inner thoughts.

Nathaniel lets out a long breath. “I…yeah. Feels weird to do, and I’m not confident I can do it perfectly any time soon, but I don’t think Ivan’s gonna wait for me to practice a bit first.”

The rooftop of Dupont isn’t too tall, though. Sure, it’s three stories, but plenty of the surrounding buildings are taller, so he still can’t see much of what’s going on. He’ll need to get to another rooftop, to a higher vantage point.

He now wishes he’d maybe had found an alleyway or something to practice with his yoyo yesterday. But he’d had a long day, and the euphoria of his transformation had made him daydream for the rest of the evening and night.

Oh well. He did this to himself.

“This…is gonna _suck_ ,” Nathaniel mutters under his breath, but squares his shoulders as he looks around himself.

The Akuma isn’t going to beat itself. And people are still in danger. His _classmates_ are still in danger.

So he sends his yoyo out to a building across the street, backs up a bit, and takes another running leap.

He nearly smacks into the side of the building, but some part of him instinctually makes his body contort, boots scrabbling for purchase. He heaves himself up the last bit, heart beating staccato in his throat.

Alright, so. He didn’t die! That’s good!

He’ll need to work on this for sure, but it’s still doable!

“Spiderman, give me the strength to figure out your web-slinging roof-hopping soon,” he sighs, standing up from his crouch.

Then winces, seeing the chaos and destruction in the distance.

“Looks like Ivan’s gotten busy,” he says despairingly. And it’s been, what? Five, _maybe_ ten minutes, tops?

_Great_. Not only does he have to work with this steep learning curve, he doesn’t have any time to figure out how to even _get_ to his target in the first place without yeet-ing himself into an early grave.

It’s fine. This is fine. If he thinks it enough, it’ll make it true, right?

Right.

“ _Maybe taking another running start will help you_?” Tikki suggests, sounding concerned at how hesitate Nathaniel’s become.

That makes… _some_ sort of sense. If he’s in motion, that’ll help him in jumping across rooftops, he thinks. It’ll propel him forwards. And, um. Kinetic energy? Things in motion? Shit, he _swears_ they went over something like that in Science last year…

Newton’s Laws, right? The First Law of Motion was something about…an object in motion stays in motion?

So, he’ll just have to stay in motion.

For once, he actually remembers what he learns in Science. And it’s actually useful and applies to his daily life! Whooda thunk.

He might need to do his best to pay better attention to Ms. Mendeleiev, actually. Sure, his ADHD always sniped him in her lessons, so he never retained the most information he could. But, apparently, he’s retained _enough_ to be useful.

“Alright. Wish me luck,” Nathaniel says to Tikki, fueled with newfound determination and confidence. He jumps a bit in place, to limber himself up, glaring at the rooftop across from him and feeling the rush of blood in his ears.

“ _You don’t need luck_!” Tikki insists.

But Nathaniel’s too busy running across the rooftop and slinging himself across with his yoyo to give a proper answer.

At least he doesn’t feel the need to scream. _That_ would make things a little more complicated, seeing a spandex-wearing, crazy teenager jumping across rooftops while yelling at the top of their lungs in pure fear.

Silver linings!

He has a feeling that him looking at silver linings will become a Thing for him in the future…

* * *

Nathaniel has managed to cross maybe a dozen more rooftops, and he hasn’t fallen to his death yet. Success!

He’s still worried about falling to his death, of course, but that’s a natural fear.

If he pushes past that fear, it actually feels a little…exhilarating? To fly across the rooftops like he’s Spiderman.

Nathaniel’s sight has improved as well. He has perfectly good vision, of course, but something about the Miraculous makes his eyesight sharper. Not Superman-levels, making him have crazy-perfect vision that can look at something across the city or anything, but he’s able to see clearer and farther than he normally could.

It’s probably how sees the lone figure, standing on another rooftop. Which is. Odd.

People don’t just make a habit on chilling on rooftops, after all. That’s not exactly a common sight.

“Tikki, you think that’s another villain?” Nathaniel asks quietly, crouching down behind a little tower-like, decorative structure on the roof he’s on.

He can all but _feel_ Tikki perk up, inside his head. “ _I think that may be your partner, actually_!”

Right. Tikki had mentioned there was another Miraculous out there—the Cat Miraculous—that was partnered with the Ladybug Miraculous. Sort of like a yin and yang situation. The Ladybug Miraculous had the powers of good luck and creation, while the Cat Miraculous had the powers of bad luck and destruction.

On second inspection, the mysterious figure seems to…have cat ears? And a tail? Maybe?

Though, from this distance, his mind could just be playing tricks on him…

“Guess I should greet ‘em,” Nathaniel says, standing from his crouch. Tikki stays silent as he takes a running start and makes his way over to the rooftop with the other Miraculous Holder, slinging himself on his yoyo.

* * *

Nathaniel lands on the rooftop housing the mysterious figure, with a surprising amount of grace and control that all his other landings have lacked, until now.

Even though there’s a few meters between them, he can clearly see the other Miraculous Holder bodily twitch.

And, yup, those are cat ears alright. Black and fluffy, matching the messy, black hair the other sports. The ears swivel wildly in his direction, having already picked up that he’s here, before their user’s even physically seen him.

They have a cat tail, too. Not a fluffy one like the cat ears, but a tail that…almost looks like a belt?

Even from behind, their costume is…interesting…to look at.

Nathaniel’s grateful for the overlarge scarf and his bangs hiding the majority of his face, because he feels his face warm as he takes in the other hero’s visage.

Black leather boots that end at the upper thigh on a pair of long legs. Slack, green suspenders looped around the hips, leading the eye from the tops of the boots up to a pair of shorts. Black short-shorts that emphasize that the other hero actually has a butt, unlike Nathaniel’s own flat ass. ~~And it’s a rather nice one too, he’s noting~~.

And—is that a crop top? Wow, okay. ~~That’s kinda hot, actually. Hm.~~

The only skin left uncovered is the upper arms—oh, and the face, too. At least, what’s not covered by an eye-mask similar to Nathaniel’s own.

The other hero swivels in place to face him fully, blinking brilliantly green eyes at him in obvious surprise. Eyes no doubt transformed by the Cat Miraculous, because _normal_ people don’t have pupils shaped like slits and light-green sclera.

They’re still pretty eyes, though. The other’s eyelash game is _strong_.

Actually, the other hero in general has a very pretty face. A small, slightly upturned nose, heart-shaped face with a soft chin, and cupids-bow lips covered in green lipstick that matches their eyes.

Nathaniel finds his eyes wandering down a bit—a collar with a bell? Adorable. And then—

Holy _fuck_ , is that a chest window?!

Nathaniel instantly snaps his gaze back up to the other’s eyes, as is socially acceptable. And tries very, very hard to fight down a blush.

He’ll just. Shove that detail away to unpack later.

He needs to say something—anything!—before things get awkward. Before the other realizes how long he’s just been standing there and staring like…like some sort of _creep_ , or something.

Which he isn’t!

…He thinks.

“Hey there! So um,” Nathaniel calls out, feeling supremely awkward as he gives a little smile. Trying to appear friendly, as well ease his own anxieties. “Who’re you?”

_Great_. What a _wonderful_ way to start a conversation. Real smooth, Nath, real smooth!

This is the person he’s going to be working with to protect Paris for the foreseeable future. He’d rather hope to leave at _least_ a decent first impression, but. Well.

He’s easily flustered, okay? With introducing himself to new people, but _especially_ if they’re pretty. So, sue him, he’s human…!

The other hero seems just as taken-aback by Nathaniel’s presence as Nathaniel is of them, though. It takes them a few seconds of surveying Nathaniel with those sharp, green eyes to gather themselves enough to answer.

And _boy_ , what an answer it is.

“I’m gay,” the other states.

Nathaniel nearly does as double take, feeling his eyebrows fly high up his forehead.

The other hero’s voice is surprisingly deep, for how androgynous they look. So, they’re a guy too…? At least, that’s sort of what’s implied.

Which. Alright. That’s _certainly_ an introduction.

And Nathaniel thought _he_ was bad at conversations…

Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay, of course! His sister would smite him on the spot if he managed to turn out homophobic in spite of her being the most proudly gay person in all of Paris. ~~And also for him sometimes checking other guys out, apparently, as he’s just learning now.~~

But it just… doesn’t seem like the time, right now. Though he’s sure Jaina would tell him that _any_ time is a perfect time to declare your homosexuality.

Currently, the other boy is looking quite horrified, eyes bugging out of his head, face rapidly turning red behind his black eye mask. Poor guy looks about ready to turn into a puddle on the rooftop.

Big Oof. Now Nathaniel feels bad…

“Uh… Th-thanks for telling me…?” he says, slowly, trying to find the words to be comforting in spite of the awkwardness of both the situation, and himself as a human being in general. “I mean, er, that’s. That’s not _exactly_ what I was asking for, but. Thanks?”

Well. It could be worse.

He’s sure the other boy means well. And if nothing else, it’ll be kind of funny to have him as a partner.

Then he realizes something.

“Wait. Unless that’s your actual name?” Nathaniel starts, beginning to gesture between the two of them. “Because if so, we’re sort of supposed to keep that information secret.”

That’s, like, Rule Number One of being a superhero: Never let anyone know your superhero identity, or else they’ll get targeted by the villains. Not to mention put their family in danger alongside them.

And the fact that they’re superheroes that have to gather and protect various artifacts, their identities slipping could be an absolute disaster. _Everyone_ would want to get their hands on a Miraculous. There could be more than one Hawk Moth running around Paris, and that would be all _kinds_ of terrible.

“Nope, not my actual name!” the other boy squeaks out, laughing awkwardly. Which, Mood. Nathaniel’s done that enough times that he sympathizes. “Just. Just wanted to, uh. Start with a nice icebreaker, y’know?”

And then he winks, which startles a snort from Nathaniel.

Okay, yeah, this guy’ll be a friggen’ _riot_ for sure. He can already tell.

It could certainly be worse. ~~The other hero was definitely easy on the eyes—~~

Nope.

_Nope_. Not going to think about _that_ right now.

Nathaniel can unpack how hot his partner is _later_. After the current threat is dealt with.

“O- _kay_ then,” he drawls out finally, trying to hide how he’d been _almost_ checking the other guy out. Again. Which is a little embarrassing. So he shakes his head a bit, flashing another awkward smile, stepping closer. “Um, have you thought of your code name yet, by the way…?”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nathaniel checking out 'the Cat Miraculous holder' and having a Bi RealizationTM like:  
> 
> 
> Both Nathaniel and Marc are Disasters and tbh I support them


	9. I’m Coming Out, Gotta Let It Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back on schedule. Let's see how long that lasts. Hopefully for the next few chapters, at the very least!
> 
> We get another Marc POV, so we can see exactly how much of a gay disaster he is.

* * *

With a wheeze that’s suspiciously like the start of Marc’s usual panic attacks, he finally gathers the strength and courage to haul himself up from his previous crouch on the ground. He steadies himself on the AC unit he’d been hiding behind, peering over where he last came from.

He looks over and the destruction—and Akuma—have both moved since he last had his eyes on them. His heart promptly feels like it drops to his guts.

He clenches his gloved fists on the AC unit, white-knuckled, knees feeling like they’ve just turned into jelly.

Marc can’t help but stop and stare, looking off into the distance, nerves and fear stalling his movements.

God, even the _prospect_ of facing the Akuma again is…intimidating.

And that’s with him already perched on the rooftops, ready to go in his superhero costume and everything. Not even facing the villain in proper close combat yet. Marc’s just sitting and _waiting_ , far enough away to watch the ever-spreading chaos, and trying not to have a panic attack then and there.

The ability of being a superhero was initially exciting. But that’s before the situation had truly sunk in.

It’s _just_ hitting him now that he’s going to have to fight a _gigantic stone monster_. Again. With just his reflexes and a baton, which weren’t even _useful_ against it when he first managed to engage it. He’d barely been able to keep himself from being smashed into paste, the minute he’d lasted in its face.

“ _You have your Cataclysm_ ,” Plagg reminds him, almost encouraging. “ _Use it_.”

Oh, and one secret finishing move.

Marc’s all for saving Paris, of saving the lives of civilians— but what exactly is he even supposed to _do_? The baton isn’t going to do any damage. And his Cataclysm shouldn’t be used lightly. It’s a deadly power that can make him literally destroy _anything he touches_ , from Plagg’s own explanation.

He wields the power of destruction itself, in the very palms of his hands.

It’s just… a lot. Too much, even.

Sure, he’s transformed and he has the Cat Miraculous ring on. Sure, he was invested when his Mama’s life was on the line. Sure, he knows he needs to protect the other civilians from harm. Sure, he pretty much has a duty to save his city.

But is he _really_ going to be able to defeat the Akuma and protect Paris…?

He’s just a kid. A child. Barely a teenager, fourteen, young and lost.

Why couldn’t an _adult_ be the one to do this…? To fight literal monsters? To throw themselves into chaos and danger and—

His ears twitch, and the rest of his body jolts at the odd sensation. It’s not his human ones, but the cat ears perched on the top of his head, nestled snuggly in his windswept hair.

He hears something. Like the sound of a wire being pulled, of a thread held knuckle-white tight being plucked. Then a thud, a loud exhale. A steady and quiet clack of footsteps, thick soles hitting concrete.

Footsteps that sound like they’re coming up from behind him.

Marc swivels on his heel, and blinks in surprise at the sight that greets him.

* * *

Standing in front of him is…another boy wearing an animal-themed outfit. Red with black spots. A ladybug.

_This_ must be the partner Plagg had mentioned. The Holder of the Ladybug Miraculous.

“Hey there! So, um,” the other boy says with a surprisingly deep voice despite his small size. Marc _thinks_ he’s smiling at him, but it’s a little hard to tell with the huge scarf in the way. “Who’re you?”

Marc takes the time to take the other in.

The ladybug-themed hero is still…cute. Even with that scarf solidly hiding the bottom half of his face. Like, _incredibly_ cute.

His hair is as red as his hero suit, the left half of his face covered by long bangs, a little black cowlick popping up from the crest of his head. A single bright, blue eye peers at him, framed by a blood-red eye mask; it’s also one of the few parts of the others’ face that is fully visible. His uncovered cheek is rosy—no doubt from physical excursion of jumping across rooftops.

He has a big scarf that dwarfs his figure, wrapped around his chin. The scarf is long, trailing down past his waist, nearly ending at his shins. It’s red with black polka dots, but a darker red than the polka-dot patterned parts of his spandex costume.

His torso is covered in black spandex with a pattern of three red dots on his chest, the material clinging to lean musculature there. Not enough to be _distracting_ —and it’s not like Marc can judge, considering he’s wearing essentially a crop top and mesh—but notable.

He looks lean and young, around Marc’s age. Maybe a little younger. He’s on the shorter side, so either he’s younger or he’s just short for a teenage boy. And with the obviously thick soles on the boots of his hero costume—seriously, they look even clunkier than the combat boots Marc wears on the reg— he must _not_ like being short.

The other hero is cute, undeniably, with all these factors together. And Marc’s so very _painfully_ homosexual.

So after a few long seconds of checking the other boy out, he opens his mouth, and promptly shoves his foot in it. Proverbially.

“I’m gay,” he blurts out. You know. Like a complete disaster.

There’s a long, awkward pause.

Marc internally feels like dying, and tries very, _very_ hard not to melt into a puddle then and there. His cheeks burn and his eyes feel like they’ll pop out of their sockets at any second.

The other boy’s visible eyebrow disappears into his hairline. “Uh… Th-thanks for telling me…?” he says, slowly, tentatively. Thankfully, not mocking at all, just a little off kilter. “I mean, er, that’s. That’s not _exactly_ what I was asking for, but. Thanks?”

Another awkward pause, where the ladybug-themed hero seems to scrutinize him. Marc can feel his face burn even hotter. No doubt he’s bright red behind his mask.

At the very least, the other hero doesn’t seem _judgmental_.

In fact, he seems pretty amused, more than anything. Marc _swears_ he sees a hint of a smile peeking out over his scarf, if that’s anything to go by.

“Wait. Unless that’s your actual name? Because if so, we’re sort of supposed to keep that information secret,” the other boy says, gesturing between them, before dropping his hands listlessly.

“Nope, not my actual name!” Marc squeaks, laughing awkwardly, and feeling himself babble. “Just. Just wanted to, uh. Start with a nice icebreaker, y’know?”

He then gives a wink. He wishes he didn’t, but he _does_ , and he’s not sure what the hell’s gotten into him.

This actually earns a laugh from the other boy—well, technically a snort, but _still_! He’ll take it.

The other hero surveys him for a long moment, head tilted slightly in a bird-like gesture that doubles as being cutely invested and _does things_ to Marc’s stomach.

“O- _kay_ then,” the redhead drawls out finally, confused and bemused in equal halves, shaking his head with a smile wide enough it’s clearly visible even behind his scarf. He steps closer, and Marc can’t help but notice how _short_ he really is. Marc must have a good two inches on him, at least, even when factoring both their boots’ heights into the mix. “Um, have you thought of your code name yet, by the way…?”

“Nope, not particularly!” Marc replies instantly, quite chipperly. It feels… _freeing_ , to be so blunt. Especially when he sees how sheepish the redhead becomes from his casual answer.

“Yeah, me neither,” the other boys admits, smile turning crooked and abashed, scratching at his uncovered cheek. “This all happened so fast…I guess we could do it later, but it’d feel weird to just say, ‘ _hey you!_ ’ if I want to acknowledge you somehow.”

“That’s fair,” Marc admits, mind going a mile a minute. A stream of word vomit flits through his head, as he tries to think up a name on the fly. “Hm. Just call me…Wild Cat.”

Not the most creative of names for a secret identity, but hey, it’s better than going with something even lamer like…Like Black Cat, or something. Something that’s too obvious, too simple.

Wild Cat has a bit of flair to it, a little spark, an undercurrent of _je ne sais quoi_. He likes it well enough, so it’ll do.

“Oh! Alright, then,” the redhead nods, before he turns his head to look out over Paris’s skyline, brow furrowing in concern. His voice, though still soft, loses that amused lilt from before. “I’ll think of mine a bit later. For now, we should go and fight the Akuma, before he causes more property damage, or hurts more people…”

He looks like he’s all business, now. A little part of Marc almost feels _disappointed_ in the shift, though he knows he shouldn’t. He should be grateful to have a partner that takes his duties seriously.

So, once more, he opens his mouth and sticks his foot in it.

“Will do, Bugaboo!” Marc automatically replies with a smile, before his words catch up with him. His smile feels like it freezes on his face, but he manages to choke out a rather casual sounding, “Catch you there!”

And then the turns and leaps off the building. You know. Like a coward.

In any other circumstance, leaping off a building from this height would result in death. But, as Marc is quickly learning, when you have superpowers, this isn’t exactly the case.

He uses his baton as a lance to help him across to the rooftop of a nearby building, the sounds of the cute bug-themed boy sputtering after him fading, with more and more distance he puts between them.

Great! First meeting, and he’s already totally botched it…!

But really, what else is new?

He sighs loudly, and he _swears_ he hears Plagg snicker somewhere in his mind. Ass.

“I swear to God, Plagg, if you’ve taken my brain-to-mouth filter in exchange for superpowers…” he whispers under his breath, cheeks warm with a blush equal parts from embarrassment and physical exertion.

Honestly, not only does he have to deal with a sarcastic picky eater of a Kwami, and a superhero outfit that could be considered _skimpy_ , he’s also acting like a thousand times more of a disaster gay than he normally is! And he hadn’t thought that was _possible_ , before today!

This whole Miraculous Holder thing was going to get him _killed_. The only question being if he’d die from an Akuma or embarrassing himself first…

* * *

Marc stops to crouch on a rooftop, waiting for his partner to catch up as well as survey the Akuma rampaging below.

The giant stone monster almost seems like it’s…wandering? It’s still overturning cars on the street and smashing things, but it keeps yelling about a ‘Kim’, howling for this person to ‘come out and stop being a coward’.

“He looks bigger than the last time I saw him,” a quietly horrified voice notes behind Marc’s left shoulder.

He turns slightly to survey the other hero, and a small “That’s what he said” slips out of his mouth without his permission.

“H-Huh?” the other hero blinks at him, taken aback.

“Uhhh,” Marc nearly freezes, “H-He, uh. Well, he seems mad.”

Which is apparently good enough to cover for the slip up, because the other hero just nods, taking it in stride.

“When Ivan was Akumatized, he ran after Kim,” he starts, peering intently down at the stone giant. “That was his priority.”

Marc shudders. “Yeah, I…I think I saw him earlier, actually?” The redhead snaps his attention to survey Marc, blue eye piercing. “Before you showed up, Stone Giant seemed to be following after someone. Followed him straight into traffic, but I intercepted before things got too ugly.”

“Well, let’s hope Kim’s managed to run far enough away,” the other hero sighs, adjusting his scarf. “Did you pick up anything about the Akuma when you fought him?”

Right down to business, huh? Man, this Ladybug holder was super professional and calm and collected. Marc was a little jealous, and a lot grateful.

“He’s much faster than he looks. Nearly got me a few times,” Marc admits, twirling his shortened baton. “My baton also didn’t do anything. And I think the police attacking him earlier actually made him larger, somehow.”

“A side effect of his Akumatization then,” the redhead says with a click of his tongue, frown visible even over his scarf. “We’ll need to use our special attacks, then.”

“Probably,” Marc hedges, nearly toppling over when the other boy suddenly surges to his feet. And then dives over the side of the building, without even a peep or an ounce of hesitation.

Marc watches in fascinated horror as the Ladybug holder swings in to sweep some brunette girl away from the Akuma, both nearly squashed in the process against the newspaper stand she’d been hiding behind. The other hero rolls, shielding the girl’s body with his smaller one.

Marc leaps into battle before he can fully register what he’s doing. He slams his extended baton on the giant’s head, backflipping away, watching as the Akuma grows larger—about a whole foot taller.

Then he’s too busy flipping away from the stone giant and avoiding being smashed into pulp by his rocky fists.

“The streets are too narrow…!” he calls out, hoping his partner can hear him from—wherever he is. Marc kind of can’t put his attention to search, too busy avoiding attacks and nearly slamming into nearby structures for his trouble.

He cringes a bit as the giant’s fists smash into countless buildings around him. But sacrifices have to be made.

Property can be fixed. Humans sort of can’t.

Hopefully, as the property damage wracks up, he’s also giving more time for a plan to be made.

Luck seems to be on his side on that front, at least. Because it’s less than a minute of him distracting the Akuma before a solution seems to come to his partner.

“Over here…!” his partner calls, followed by the zip of his yoyo wrapping around the giant’s fist and redirecting the ginormous fist before it could bring an awning down on Marc’s head.

Marc takes the chance to get some distance, searching from where the other hero’s voice came from.

The Ladybug holder is down the street, the girl he saved before standing behind him, a phone out as she records everything happening. Which—seriously?! _Now_ , of all times?!

Marc’s never hated his generation as much as he does now.

“C’mere, Ivan! I’ve found Kim! Lemme take you right to him…!” the redhead calls out to the giant, tugging the Akuma towards him with his yoyo. The brilliance of the plot hits Marc nearly at the same time he flips straight into a light pole.

Marc hisses, rubbing his side, but thankfully the giant’s attention is wholly diverted. The Ladybug lets go with his yoyo and takes down the street at a run. The stone giant—Ivan, apparently—starts running after him.

Marc is quick to follow, leaping across the light poles with help from his nifty baton.

* * *

His partner ends up leading them all to a more open street. It was an open square, all cobblestone, with a huge fountain in the middle.

It’s a much better place to fight a giant, if he’s being honest. Man, his partner is smart…!

“ _Lucky you, being paired with a clever little ladybug_ ,” Plagg purrs in his mind, sounding distinctly pleased.

“Kim!” the Akuma roars, looking around wildly. “Where are youuuu?!”

The Ladybug holder rushes in, trying to string the Stone Giant up with his yoyo. The Akuma roars, grabbing onto the line, yanking and throwing the other hero aside. Marc hisses as he watches the Ladybug hit the cobblestone and tumble, looking like a rock being skipped across a pond.

“ _I might’ve spoken too soon_ ,” Plagg says, the urge to wince doubling within Marc from the feedback loop connecting Plagg to him. “ _Yowch_.”

“You okay, buddy…?!” Marc yells out awkwardly, not really knowing what he could really do for the other boy.

“Fine…!” the redhead bites out, forcing himself to stand, looking incredibly disheveled. His scarf was nearly pooled down to the ground in a pile, only half-hanging around his shoulders, and he clutched at his shoulder with a grimace.

“ _Kim_ …! Where’s Kim?!” Stone Giant roars, looking furious as he swivels his head around. “You _lied_ …!”

“Maybe so!” the redhead retorts, teeth bared in a snarl. Marc’s dumb, gay monkey brain couldn’t help but think he looked hot, especially paired with the cut on his cheek oozing blood and the general disheveled look to him.

“Lucky Charm!” the ladybug-themed hero yells, whipping his yoyo up into the air. A flash of red light envelops the yoyo and…

There’s now a hose in the redhead’s hands.

“ _Oh, **this’ll** be good_,” Plagg snorts.

The redhead squints down at the polka dot patterned hose with obvious confusion, looking lost.

The distraction nearly costs him. Marc has to literally dive in and tackle the other out of the way of Stone Giant’s gigantic fists.

“Is that your secret move? A _hose_?!” Marc demands, with a bit of mounting panic, as he quickly extends his baton to stop the next attack. And barely, at that.

His arms ache, and it’s a miracle his baton doesn’t break, wedged between the Akuma’s palm and the cobblestone floor. The Akuma’s hand stops a meter from them. They nearly got turned into pancakes.

The redhead rolls away, hose and all, and Marc kicks the baton and rolls out of the way as well.

“Please keep him busy!” the redhead calls to him, dashing off to God-knows-where.

Marc _would_ complain about being the one doing all the grunt work and forced in the most danger of getting his bones turned into dust, but he’s too busy putting his augmented gymnastics skills to use to avoid death. He barely has any brain capacity to _think_ , much less say anything snarky.

He does a pretty good job of it, too, he thinks. The open area helps immensely, compared to the tighter quarters of the street from before. He isn’t constantly almost ramming into things while dodging.

“ _Keep it up, kid!_ ” Plagg hoots in his mind. Surprisingly, the cry is a bit of a confidence booster.

“At your service!” Marc says, feeling himself smile.

* * *

Not all good things last forever, though.

It’s impressive he manages to last as long as he does, considering it’s his first time fighting an Akuma, and he was already tiring from engaging with the Akuma twice before this.

Despite his best attempts, Marc still gets hit.

He manages to get his baton up to help shield himself a bit, but he gets punched straight in the chest. Marc is barely able to choke out a wheeze, before he’s flung back like a speeding bullet, weightless and helpless.

Somehow, he doesn’t die instantly. Might be the baton absorbing some of the hit. Might be the powers of the Cat Miraculous itself.

When he slams into the cobblestone, he chokes. His body drags across the street, leaving a long, Wild Cat-shaped trail in the ground, ripping up the cobblestones along the way. And then his body blessedly stops in place.

He nearly whites out from the pain then and there.

“ _Wild Cat_!” someone shrieks loudly.

Marc wheezes, struggling to get air back into his lungs like a fish out of water. He’d swear, but he doesn’t even have the breath left for that. He feels like his brain is leaking out from his ears.

“Ivan, _stop it_!” a different voice interjects.

Marc feels his head throb, his eyes refocusing as he blinks them. He shifts, manages to sit up slightly despite the spike of pain, his head falling listlessly to the side like his neck was made of rubber.

There’s _another_ random fucking teenager here, now. Though, maybe not as random as he’d thought. The guy looks vaguely familiar, somehow.

“Kim, stay back…!” calls out the Ladybug, and, ah. This other guy was who the Akuma had been after before.

Small world, huh?

The guy—Kim—is shaking, even as he tries to puff his chest up and show a strong front. He’s got his arms spread, and is walking slowly towards the Akuma, taking the attention off Marc.

Well. That can’t do.

Though Marc appreciates the sentiment—especially as he feels like he can barely move right now—it’s not like Kim has a Miraculous to protect himself.

“ _C’mon, kid, get back up. You can do it_ …!” Plagg insists in his mind, sounding almost pleading as he encourages him.

A lot of things happen at once, then.

The Ladybug holder yells out, “Glasses, crank that knob!”

The Akuma roars, an enraged “Kim…!” as he rushes towards the newcomer.

Kim keeps his arms spread out, still shaking, but stands his ground.

Against all logic, Marc surges up to his feet in a fit of renewed energy, pain completely forgotten, his body moving on autopilot to protect the civilian in the crossfire.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... how about that cliffhanger, huh? ;3c  
> Any thoughts?


	10. The New Heroes Save Paris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the end of the first Akuma fight!
> 
> This chapter is a little unique, as it's a mixed POV chapter! We get both Marc and Nathaniel's view of things. Double the disaster boys for double the fun!
> 
> Next two or three chapters will be a wrap-up. Y'know, because it's realistic if there are consequences and complicated feelings and all that jazz.

* * *

Nathaniel wishes he knew more on how his powers worked, because things are going pear-shaped very quickly.

“ _Your Lucky Charm gives you an item that can help end the fight! You just have to be creative with it!_ ” Tikki offers her advice, even if its vague at best, and unhelpful at worst.

Stupid dumb-ass bullshit anime superpowers that make _no goddamn sense_ …!

Nathaniel’s supremely glad he has Wild Cat with him. Wild Cat’s been great so far at making distractions to give him time to actually _think_.

Wild Cat is good at this, too. _Really_ good. He flips and hops around Ivan like an Olympic gymnast. And he hasn’t even been hit _once_ , unlike Nathaniel’s own stupid ass getting thrown around like a ragdoll.

It’s incredible, this fantastic show of skill from the holder of the Cat Miraculous, but the redhead knows he can’t be distracted. ~~Even if Wild Cat is _super_ hot and very distracting; like _goddamn_ , how is it even _fair_ that he’s so attractive?~~

Nathaniel shakes his head and looks around himself wildly, trying to piece together what he should do with a hose—

Wait.

Hose. There’s a water fountain. Water. Water’s strong against rock. Thanks, Pokémon…!

A half-plan forms in his mind, slapdash and fast and jumbled in his dumb ADHD brain. But it’s the best he’s got.

“ _Go, Nathaniel…!_ ” Tikki cheers in his mind, as he quickly runs over to the fountain.

Nathaniel braces himself, and leaps on top of the fountain. He finds a spout that’s about the right size, and ignoring the resulting twinge in his shoulder, attaches the end of the hose that didn’t have a nozzle onto the spout.

The fountain is just a normal fountain, though. It doesn’t have the pressure to be very effective in conjunction with the hose.

Nathaniel’s head snaps up automatically as he hears a sickening crunch and a shriek.

There’s multiple problems at once.

One, apparently the girl he saved before followed them, if the loud, high-pitched wail is any indication.

Two, Ivan managed to get a solid hit on Wild Cat, who goes down like a sack of bricks. Three, Wild Cat is now literally implanted in the street like a meteorite hitting Earth, and doesn’t look to be getting back up.

Nathaniel can’t help the shriek that rips from his throat, a horrified “ _Wild Cat_!”

But the other hero lays there, crumpled against the cobblestone, without moving an inch. Nathaniel hears the terrible, sickening rasps of the other boy attempting to breathe, but being unable to do so properly, gasping like a fish out of water.

“Ivan, _stop it_!”

And problem number four, Kim is now on the scene.

_Shit_. Another civilian to defend?!

“Kim, stay back…!” Nathaniel calls out, furious and terrified as Ivan whips his attention to his defenseless classmate. Lord above, why is Kim such a _dumbass_?!

The athletic boy slowly walks towards Ivan, shaking even as he spreads his arms wide. Making himself a target.

He’s trying to protect everyone. Ugh, that _noble_ _dumbass_ …!

Nathaniel’s gaze whips from Kim to the girl from earlier. Fuck, can he protect either of them, with Wild Cat down?

Wait. The girl is right by a…a knob. That might just be for the fountain.

“Glasses, crank that knob!” he orders, holding his hose ready, pointing it at Ivan.

Thankfully, the girl all but pounces on the knob, realizing the urgency of the situation.

Nathaniel’s lips thin with tension as he waits for the proper horsepower to kick in, aiming the hose nozzle at his target, even as Ivan gets closer and closer to his target.

No, _targets_. Because Wild Cat is suddenly back on his feet, standing protectively in front of Kim.

And then—

* * *

Everything seems to pass by, as if in slow motion. Like a sequence from an action film.

Marc manages to surge forwards, baton extended in front of him, shielding Kim from the Akuma.

The giant rushes towards them with no hesitation, a terrifying monolith of destruction.

The distance closes—twenty meters turn to fifteen, to ten, to five— and Marc is ready for the impact.

Except.

A huge blast of water smashes into the Akuma.

Ivan roars in pain, blasted diagonally away from Marc and Kim. He roars and roars, stone body sliding against the cobblestones, kicking up sparks that are quickly doused out from the spray.

Marc turns to look at the fountain in awe.

The Ladybug holder is standing on top of the structure, wielding the hose he’d summoned before with his powers, making it so the water slams against the Akuma relentlessly in an unforgiving torrent.

Ivan turns around, trying to face the assault and shield himself with his hands.

“Wild Cat!” the other hero calls out. “Aim for the left hand! That’s where his power is!”

Marc is quick to whip his gaze to the giant.

Large rocky hands spread out against the water, the left hand has a very obviously glowing _something_ in the middle of it, that makes it an obvious target.

“On it!” he replies, body full of adrenaline as he sprints over. Filled with the knowledge of past Cat Miraculous holders, he knows what to do.

Marc raises his hands, leaps and yells, “Cataclysm!”

Black energy gathers around his hands, emanating from the Miraculous ring, as he slams them onto the piece of glowing paper embedded in the middle of the Akuma’s hand.

* * *

Marc’s happy for all of a second, before the force of the power hose nearly drowns him then and there.

He also ends up slamming straight into the Akuma.

After two seconds, the hose is finally diverted away. So instead of a high-pressure blast of water strong enough to almost rip the skin from your limbs, all anyone had to worry about was being soaked.

Still sprawled across the groaning Akumatized victim, Marc is quick to roll off the Stone Giant, not-so-subtly hacking out the water that he managed to swallow in the entire debacle.

A cheer cuts through the area, loud and wild, and very obviously feminine. Apparently, the girl that was saved earlier didn’t take the hint to go and hide for her safety and had followed them to keep recording the batshit insane incident.

Marc would swear, but he’s still too breathless to do so.

“Wild Cat! Are you okay?!” a somewhat familiar voice calls out.

Marc lets out a laugh, near hysterical, as he forces himself to raise a hand and give a vague thumbs up.

“Hold on…! Miraculous Ladybug!”

Marc blinks as a bright red light seems to engulf the other hero—specifically, from the hose he’d been using. The hose dissolves, replaced by a…wave? Swarm? Of some sort of energy.

The wave sweeps across Marc, and he sighs loudly in relief as all the pain of his injuries instantly melts away.

When he peers over at the Akuma, Stone Giant glows and rapidly deteriorates.

Soon enough, instead of a monster made of stone, there’s just a boy, crumpled in a groaning heap.

The wave looks like it’s made of tiny little ladybugs—cute, and very thematic—and it makes its rounds across the square. The water is all cleaned up. The cobblestones are all fixed.

The wave moves down the street. No doubt, it’ll spread out to the rest of Paris to fix the damage.

Just… _Wow_.

The Ladybug Miraculous really _can_ fix everything…! That’s absolutely _incredible_!

Marc can’t help the joyful laugh that slips past his lips as he stands up, grinning widely and toothily over at the ladybug-themed hero, who stares at the fixed damage with open awe.

And then, it’s like something in the boy _shifts_. The redhead snaps his gaze up at the sky, sudden and intense, as he stares down…a butterfly?

No, a butterfly wreathed in dark energy.

“The Akuma…!” Marc gasps out. _That’s_ what probably caused it in the first place…! That weird butterfly!

“On it!” The Ladybug holder says, swinging his yoyo, which glows white. “Time to de-Evilize…!”

The yoyo hits true. The evil butterfly somehow gets swallowed? Into it?

The redhead catches the yoyo, and fiddles with it. A butterfly comes back out, now pure white, no dark energy in sight. The other hero sighs, smiling over his scarf, waving away the butterfly.

* * *

Marc jogs over to the fountain, his partner still standing on top of it. The sight itself is dramatic, almost picturesque, looking like something ripped straight from the pages of a comic book.

“That was _amazing_!” Marc calls out, visibly startling the other boy. The redhead slides down the fountain and flips over to Marc. “You did it!”

“I…I did it?” comes the dazed reply.

“You did! It was _incredible_!” Marc can’t help but gush, stopping right in front of the Ladybug holder. “It’s like you knew exactly what to do…!”

“Um, thanks…” The redhead flushes, cheeks going rosy, ducking slightly into his scarf. The sight is _adorable_. Or maybe Marc’s just smitten.

It’s hard not to, with having a crime-fighting partner that’s so smart and driven. And apparently very modest, to boot.

Plagg snickers in his mind, but Marc pointedly ignores him.

* * *

The past five minutes have been a blur of action that Nathaniel’s brain is still trying to process.

The main thing he knows is that he’s managed to get a handle on his powers. At least, enough that he’s been able to turn Ivan back to normal and dispel the Akuma. The source has been purified, and the threat is gone.

That should be enough.

He’s nearly forgotten he had an audience. When Wild Cat calls to him, Nathaniel almost slips straight off the fountain, but manages to recover with a flip that he _totally meant to do_ off the water fountain. Totally.

Wild Cat’s ensuing enthusiasm nearly bowls him over. “You did it!”

“I…I did it?” is his dazed reply.

“You did! It was _incredible_! It’s like you knew exactly what to do…!” Wild Cat gushes as he stops in front of him, green eyes wide and gleaming, beaming wide with all his teeth. Nathaniel fights a blush of pride rising on his cheeks, ducking into his scarf slightly.

“Um, thanks…” he answers back, feeling suddenly overwhelmingly shy.

Wild Cat’s looking at him like he’s hung the moon, or something equally crazy. All Nathaniel’s done is the bare minimum, while fumbling and dicking around until he figured out his powers.

“That swarm of ladybugs that fixed everything… That’s such a strong power! I’m pretty much as good as new!” Wild Cat chirps, making a show of flexing, giving a cheesy wink with his grin. “So, thanks for that!”

“Oh! Well. Um,” Nathaniel sputters, running a hand through his hair. “You…Y-you did most of the work, really. Your finishing blow—i-it was super cool.”

“You think?” the other hero asks, fluffy cat ears standing to attention on top of his head, his belt-tail-thing thrashing. Nathaniel was reminded vividly of one of the stray cats that hangs around his house, eager for scratches.

“Mhm,” Nathaniel nods back.

“Well, I think you ended up with the better track record. _Eres muy afortunado_ ,” Wild Cat tells him, all lilting vowels, with a wide smile. Nathaniel feels his heart trip in his chest at the smoothness of the foreign words—Spanish?—and awe shining in the other’s eyes. “Seriously, you didn’t get pulverized and soaked through, which should be a win for you.”

“I mean. You did great, too,” Nathaniel says, ducking his head bashfully and fiddling with his scarf. “You were really brave out there, buying me time to think up a plan and figure out my powers, so. Thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.”

Nathaniel peeks up from his bangs, watching as the other hero outright _beams_ at him, canines and teeth a bright white. He raises his face from the comforting barrier of his scarf, and grins back.

“You two are _amazing_! Absolutely _incredible…_!” someone else crows, and Nathaniel snaps his head over to look at the newcomer.

He squints, realizing that he’s seen her before. Before he even saved her from Akumatized Ivan from earlier.

He vaguely knows her as the new girl from his class, the transfer student. He’s not sure what her name is, but she defended Marinette from Chloe, and then sat next to her. So, they must be friends, he thinks; though probably not good enough friends for Marinette to follow her into danger like this girl did. Twice.

It’s a silver lining, though. The thought of someone as sweet as Marinette getting hurt by an Akuma is _awful_.

“Who _are_ you?” the girl presses, phone camera all but shoved into their faces, brown eyes wide and gleaming behind her glasses. “Are you superheroes? What’re your names? Your powers? Ladybug looked like he could fix everything, is that what you can do? And Black Cat can destroy things? Can you—”

“Sorry, but that’s not our names?” Wild Cat says, bemused and a little awkward, but still smiling politely. He’s doing much better at the onslaught than Nathaniel is, who instantly froze up when the girl got close and started her barrage of questions. So he stays quiet, and lets his partner do the talking.

“Oh! Sorry, I just assumed,” the girl falters for all of a moment, before she smiles wide. “So what _are_ your names? The people of Paris want to know who their saviors are! We need to know who to thank…!”

“I’m Wild Cat!” the other hero introduces, puffing out his chest and striking a little pose, fist clenched around his baton. “And my partner here is, uh…Actually, have you chosen a name yet?”

Wild Cat turns to him, blinking those big, green eyes of his. Nathaniel feels his anxiety leave his shoulders, just a bit, at the encouraging smile Wild Cat gives him.

“I have,” Nathaniel nods, the inspiration striking him lightning-quick. He smiles back at Wild Cat, making sure to lock eyes with him, as he answers, “I’m Fortuno.”

Wild Cat’s eyes go wide, his mouth dropping in an ‘o’ of surprise and realization.

And then there’s the chime of four beeps.

Nathaniel’s hand instantly falls to his earrings, but only two spots have disappeared. Wild Cat looks a little panicked as he grasps onto his hand, gloves obscuring the ring on his finger.

“S-Sorry, I have to go!” the other hero stutters out, smiling awkwardly back at Nathaniel, face flushed a light pink. “I’ll…I’ll see you next time…?”

“Yeah,” Nathaniel nods back, trying for encouraging. “See you next time.”

“Wait, why do you have to go?!” the girl from before yelps out, looking frazzled. Nathaniel startles, almost forgetting she was standing there, so caught up in watching his partner’s reaction to using him as inspiration for a hero name.

Before she can ask another barrage of questions, or stop him, Wild Cat is breaking off from their group, running full-tilt and extending his baton.

Three seconds, and he’s vaulted his way up to a nearby rooftop. Three more seconds, and he’s already disappearing rapidly off into Paris’ skyline.

* * *

“Aw man, I wanted to ask him about his outfit…” the glasses-wearing girl grumbles, but it’s nearly drowned out by Ivan’s confused groans and loud, “Ugh, what _happened_?”

Nathaniel has other people to check up on. So he looks over at the New Girl and tells her, quite flatly, “I’m going to check on the victims. Please don’t record us” and hopes she has enough decency to follow his simple directions to give them a modicum of privacy. He then turns on his heel and runs over to his two other classmates.

Kim is collapsed on the ground on his ass, wide-eyed and panting hard, still seemingly trying to recover from his near-death experience he’d almost brought upon himself. Meanwhile, Ivan is on his knees. He’s clutching at his head with one hand, staring down at the other with mingled confusion and horror.

“I…I didn’t mean to hurt anybody,” Ivan manages to choke out, voice thick with emotion, clenching his free hand into a fist. He looks close to tears, and Nathaniel’s heart pangs in sympathy. “I-I was mad, sure, but—but I couldn’t…My body moved on its own, and I couldn’t _stop_ it.”

Well. That was. Completely and utterly _horrifying_.

“No one’s hurt,” Nathaniel promises him, bending down slightly and placing a hand on one of Ivan’s massive shoulders. “My powers fixed all the damage caused by Hawk Moth controlling you.”

He’s not even sure if what he’s saying is wholly true, as he’d only seen the damage in front of his eyes reverse. But some part of him, deep in his gut, makes him _feel_ like it is. It’s probably his instincts, his inherent knowledge of the Ladybug Miraculous. So, it must be true.

Besides, Wild Cat looked as good as new. Like he hadn’t been injured at all. And that was much more relieving, than Nathaniel’s own aches washing away from his swarm of ladybugs, or the water being cleaned up from the area’s hose down.

“E…Everyone’s okay…?” Ivan asks, voice tentative and choked, as he stares pleadingly into Nathaniel’s uncovered eye. There isn’t an ounce of recognition on his face, which is. Convenient. Because if Ivan recognized him, that would make things both awkward and complicated, he’s sure.

“They are,” Nathaniel assures, nodding and smiling comfortingly at his classmate.

“Yeah, dude. Not like you managed to get a hold of me, so I’m good,” Kim pipes up, awkwardly crab-walking over to Ivan, slow and cautious. “And those superheroes made sure everyone else was out of the way.”

Ivan lets out a sigh, his whole body sagging in relief with the motion.

“I know you were angry at Kim earlier, Ivan. But I’m sure that whatever Kim did, he knows now to apologize for,” Nathaniel starts, turning to give a stern look over at Kim. Said boy grimaces, eyes downcast, looking contrite.

Nathaniel’s earrings take the time to beep four chimes. He bites down a curse, looking quickly between both boys. He needs to leave soon, but he also wants to make sure his classmates will be alright…

“Yeah…Yeah, I probably took it too far,” Kim sighs out, Ivan blinking over at him in confusion. “No, I _definitely_ did.”

“I tried crushing you like a bug,” Ivan grunts out, looking absolutely baffled.

“Just. Talk it out,” Nathaniel pleads to the two, cutting through the conversation when Kim opens his mouth to argue. “Talk to the police, and then go back to school, alright?”

With that, he’s standing out of his crouch and running to the closest building while he hears mingled voices telling him to stop, from both his classmates and a few adults. He slings himself on the rooftop and looks back over his shoulder to see a patrol of police officers having just joined the scene.

“Get back here…!” one of the officers, a rotund man, calls out on a megaphone up at him. Nathaniel doesn’t particularly stop to listen to him.

* * *

He has no time to waste. Just a few seconds left, at most. So Nathaniel jumps three roofs over, and then lands in an alleyway, before he finally de-transforms.

It’s a punch to the gut, his powers leaving him as his superhero suit recedes off his skin. A sudden weight falls on him, overtaking his entire body,

He feels like he’d just gotten run over by a bus.

Nathaniel groans, but shuffles his way out of the alley, blinking blearily at the street he exits from.

He doesn’t instantly recognize anything, but he finds signs on a nearby street corner telling him the intersection he’s at.

Letting out a long sigh, he fishes his phone from his pocket, and uses Google Maps to find where exactly he’s ended up at.

He…probably should go back to school, huh? If no one can find him, they might call his house, or the police. And things could get…complicated.

It would be hard to hide a secret identity if he’s gone at the same time a new superhero emerges to protect Paris, after all.

So Nathaniel sets Google Maps to send him to the nearest subway stop, and starts to walk.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fortuno= means 'lucky' or 'fortunate', related to the word for 'fate'  
> Eres muy afortunado= translates to “you are very lucky"
> 
> Nathaniel, looking at Wild Cat: Damn it he's hot  
> Marc, as Wild Cat: [speaks one Spanish phrase]  
> Nathaniel: Oh no, he's even MORE hot--


	11. Worrywart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost forgot to update this fic this week.  
> I've been posting other fics like a madman AND trying to draw references for Wild Cat and Fortuno, so that's been taking up time.
> 
> Other than that, let's get to the chapter!

* * *

It’s…been a _long_ fucking day.

All Nathaniel wants to do is _go the fuck home_ , after a job well done, but. Well. It’s not like classes were technically cancelled, were they…?

So he trudges his way back—taking the subway, since he’s still a bit too far from Dupont to make the journey on foot in a timely manner.

He exits from the nearest subway stop from the school and keeps on walking.

Eventually, after walking a few blocks, he gets back to where he’s supposed to. The East entrance of Dupont is in sight in all its teenager-sized bushes glory, as he makes his way down the sidewalk.

Then he’s nearly tackled straight onto the ground by Alix.

“ _Nath_! I’ve been looking _everywhere_ for you!” she cries out, while he musters up his last lingering strength to lock his knees to keep himself from being completely bowled over.

“Hey. Sorry,” he groans, feeling a general throbbing _soreness_ all over, a bone-deep tiredness that makes him lethargic and ready to drop at any second.

Apparently, for all the Miraculous bolsters his physical body and acts as armor that protects him from Akuma attacks, it doesn’t do anything to rid post-battle exhaustion. Either that, or it works at a much slower rate to heal fatigue. Maybe it’s because Tikki herself is worn out—

“Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself?” Alix demands peevishly after a few seconds, cutting through his inner musings. She’s still hugging him like her life depended on it, arms trembling around him and face buried in his chest. “ _Sorry_?”

“I tried to, uh. Go and get some help,” he says lamely. He couldn’t ever lie to Alix—not only can she weed out lies from him like a bloodhound on a scent trail, well-trained from all the years they’ve known each other, the guilt he usually feels when he tries makes him fess up pretty quickly—but this _technically_ isn’t a lie.

He _did_ go and try to help the situation! Just as a superhero, is all.

“And that took you _an hour_?” his best friend asks waspishly, wholly skeptical. But the answer finally pushes her to disentangle herself from him, if only to stare him down suspiciously.

She’s obviously _really fucking pissed_ at him, but she also looks worried. Her eyes are glassy, too—she’s barely fighting back tears, too stubborn to show weakness and let herself cry, even as overwhelmed as she is.

“I…may have also tried to follow the path of destruction,” he admits, wincing as she instantly punches him in the side in a mean right hook. “Hey! I just wanted to know if there was any other way I could talk Ivan down, or help Kim!”

“You…! You! You _moron_!” Alix howls—and, yup, there’s the tears. But they’re more tears of fury than sadness, and Nathaniel cringes back from her guiltily. “I’d thought you’d gotten yourself _killed_! At least Kim can run fast enough to get away from that freaky stone-giant version of Ivan, but you’re a useless fucking shrimp, Nath!”

“Gee, thanks,” he mutters, only to have his ear yanked. “Hey hey hey, watch the earrings!” he yelps, just a little panicked. Sure, he’s the holder of the Ladybug Miraculous—but will others be able to see Tikki if they touch his earrings?

He’s not sure he wants to find that out, barely the official first day on the job.

“Next time, don’t run after the supervillains, then!” she hisses, but lets his ear go with a huff. He instantly rubs at it, wincing; for all that she’s tiny, his best friend is a force of nature. “You’re lucky they cancelled classes and put Dupont on emergency lockdown… _Idiot_.”

“I guess there’s not exactly a policy for when villains attack our school, huh…?” he muses, straightening up, thankful that Alix has gotten her frustrations out and is more annoyed than she is furiously worried. She sniffles, roughly wiping her tears on her sleeves, and it makes something in Nathaniel’s heart ache.

“Sorry for worrying you,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck and grimacing. “Next time, I’ll stick to having a panic attack in a custodian closet or something,” he says, half-joking and half-serious.

He sort of _wishes_ he had the luxury to just stick himself in a closet and have a panic attack while Akumas were raging across Paris. Unfortunately, he’s currently one of two people that can stop said Akuma attacks.

“Whatever you say, dingus…” Alix snorts after a few seconds, punching him on the shoulder—but gently, this time. “And you complain _I’m_ the one getting into trouble all the time…”

“Usually you are,” he reminds her, only to get another punch in the shoulder. “ _Alix_ , I’m going to bruise…!” he can’t help but whine, wincing and rubbing at his much-abused shoulder.

“Serves you right!” she harrumphs, crossing her arms and sticking her nose in the air. “Worrying your best friend like that…!”

Nathaniel sighs, both fondly exasperated and regretful.

He knows he’s going to have to figure out how to smooth this over later…

And he also has the dreaded feeling that this might just be a repeating occurrence between them, in the future, as well.

He’ll need to stock up on popcorn and Alix’s favorite snack foods for the foreseeable future.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promises, plans already flitting in his mind before being discarded just as quickly. His attention it soon diverted by the police car that stops at the end of the crosswalk right in front of them. “Hey, wait—is that—”

Alix snaps her head up, eyes widening as she sees Kim and Ivan exit the patrol car. “Kim! Ivan! You’re okay…!”

Nathaniel instantly places his hands on Alix’s shoulders to hold her back, knowing she’ll probably make a dive for the two. Whether to kick the shit out of them, or hug them, or both—he’s not exactly sure, actually.

But he feels that crowding Kim and Ivan…probably won’t help them, right now.

“There you go, boys,” says Sabrina’s dad—thankfully okay after the Akuma attack, and apparently okay enough to escort his daughter’s classmates back to school, safe and sound.

“Thanks, Mr. Raincomprix,” Kim and Ivan both mutter to the officer, shuffling awkwardly in place.

“That’s Officer Raincomprix while I’m on duty, kiddos. Now, let’s get you up the Principal’s Office. I don’t think you’ll get penalized, what with that Hawk Moth’s powers of brainwashing and all, but—” and then the officer cuts himself off, narrowing his eyes at Nathaniel and Alix suspiciously, who are standing not that far away. “Shouldn’t you two be back in the building…?”

“Kim and Ivan are our friends. We’re here to make sure they’re okay,” Alix says mulishly, crossing her arms and straightening her posture. She’s four feet tall, but she juts her chin out and narrows her eyes with all the confidence of an Amazonian Warrior who’s six feet and counting.

“We’re good, we’re good,” Kim says, waving a hand, as if waving away Alix’s concerns. He awkwardly turns to Ivan, clapping a hand on the bulkier boy’s shoulder. “Right, man?”

Ivan squints his murky-gray eyes at the other boy, frowning. But he concedes with a nod. “Right. Sorry again, by the way.”

“Though I don’t like you trying to kill me, dude, I _was_ a jerk to you…So, we’re even,” Kim shrugs, with a surprising amount of casualness that doesn’t befit his statement. “Not like you could help getting mind controlled, right?”

“…Right,” Ivan nods, still frowning and eyeing Kim oddly. But when Kim offers a fist, Ivan awkwardly complies in a fist-bump.

Nathaniel finds it…just a _little_ concerning that Kim’s able to so easily forgive someone trying to literally come for his life just an hour prior. But, well. That was Kim’s decision.

And Hawk Moth _really_ fucks with his victims’ minds and bodily autonomy. Ivan literally couldn’t control his own body, couldn’t stop as he rampaged across Paris. His anger must’ve been magnified and twisted into murderous fury by the villain, out of his complete control.

For all he yelled and was intimidating, Ivan wasn’t _violent_. He _never_ hurt anyone on purpose. He was actually more shy and withdrawn than his dangerous visage presents; he just tended to fluster and get provoked into anger easily.

“They sort of cancelled classes, so…you’re not missing much, I think?” Nathaniel offers, walking alongside Alix and the boys as they head into the school.

“The Principal might announce something to change that, but yeah. We’re pretty much stuck in an extended study-hall,” Alix adds, punching Ivan and Kim on the arms, as is her usual way of showing friendship. “We’ll see you later, then.”

* * *

The group part ways, without much fanfare.

Alix all but drags Nathaniel by the arm to their classroom, and he doesn’t say a peep.

He nearly stumbles in place when they hit the courtyard, looking around in awe at the magically fixed school building. The courtyard looked perfect, completely untouched. There were no random holes around the place like the Kool Aid Man decided to bust through. And half the student body were just…out and about, hunched over their phones or locked in gossiping groups.

“Huh,” he mutters. “Everything got fixed?”

“Yeah. Those new superheroes not only saved Paris, they, like. Had a superpower to fix all the destruction too,” Alix nods, before eyeing him oddly. “Weren’t you outside? Didn’t you see the streets get fixed and stuff…?”

“I mean, I did,” he answers quickly. “But I guess it’s different to see the streets put back together, compared to the school literally mending huge holes in its walls?”

“Point,” she shrugs, swaying around as she languidly skated on her Heelies™. “Miss Bustier might chew you and some of the others out, for disappearing, by the way.”

“Understandable,” he sighs, before blinking. “…Wait, _others_?”

Did any of his classmates, past Kim and Ivan and the New Girl, get mixed up in the chaos as well…?

“Yeah, that Alya girl left school the first second she could to, like, record what was happening. I think she’s the one that posted the video that went viral, showing off the new superheroes. Black Cat and Fortuno…?” Alix shrugged. “Dunno how she’s gonna explain _that_ to Miss Bustier, since it kinda looks bad, but oh well. She’s a famous blogger now ‘cuz of it.”

So it _was_ just the three—technically four, if he included himself—of them.

“Oh,” Nathaniel replies, just a bit dazed. “…Also, it’s Wild Cat.”

Alix blinks, staring at him. “What?”

Nathaniel coughs awkwardly, flushing slightly. “It’s…Fortuno and Wild Cat. Not Black Cat.”

Alix raises one of her carefully-dyed pink eyebrows. “And you knew this _how_ , exactly?”

“…I may have watched part of the fight?” he admits, in another careful half-truth.

“ _Dude_!” Alix shrieks, gaping at him. “Shut _up_ …!”

“ _Ow_ , hey—why do you always go for the shoulder punch?!” he yelps, leaning away from the assault.

“Did you catch a video of it?” Alix demands, eyes gleaming in obvious excitement as she leans in his face.

“I was sort of trying not to be in the way and die, actually. So no,” he replies tonelessly, sighing and feeling infinitely more tired when his best friend pouts at him like he’s done a heinous crime.

“Wow, Nath. Skipping class, and you don’t even have a cool video of Paris’ new superheroes to show for it? For shame,” she says with fake solemnity, shaking her head.

“Hey, at least there’s no video evidence of me skipping school.”

“…I mean, true.”

* * *

Miss Bustier does, in fact, scold him for disappearing for the hour.

Nathaniel gives a stuttered, nervous excuse about him running out in a panic to try and get help from the police, and sort of…trying not to get smushed in the madness, before he felt it safe to roam the streets and get back to school.

Miss Bustier sighs at him, her arms crossed, but she looks less angry and more relieved than anything. It makes something in Nathaniel’s stomach turn, feeling guilty at worrying her and giving her half-truths, since she’s his second-favorite teacher.

But he can’t give the actual truth of why he was gone, now, can he?

“I’m just glad that you’re okay, Nathaniel. Please try not to run off like that again, alright?” the woman asks, gentling her voice. Nathaniel feels smaller than usual—it almost feels like he’s being scolded by his own Mom, or by his big sister when he does something that rattles her usual unflappable lackadaisical personality—but he nods quickly.

“Go and sit down for now, then.” As he’s clearly dismissed, Nathaniel scrambles to go to his seat.

Miss Bustier then turns on her heel to stare down the New Girl, who doesn’t look repentant in the slightest that she went and ran off to video-record the attack.

“Now, Alya. I know you’re new to this school, but I do hope you realize that putting yourself in such danger isn’t acceptable—"

Nathaniel lets out a shuddered breath, glad that he’s not being chewed out by Miss Bustier like the New Girl—Alya, apparently—was right now. He sinks bonelessly into his seat, finally relieved to be sitting down and resting.

“Are you okay, Nathaniel?” Rose asks quietly, so very sweetly concerned, leaning across Juleka to talk to him. Her blue eyes are big and wide as she stares at him searchingly.

“M’fine,” Nathaniel grins slightly, nodding at the two girls. “Are—Are you guys okay…?”

“Scared shitless, but fine,” Juleka says in that usual, sarcastic drawl of hers.

Instead of gently admonishing her for her negativity, Rose instead bites her lip and nods along. “Y-Yeah… Thankfully we just got a little scratched up. After those glowing ladybugs swept across the school, everything went back to normal and all our scrapes disappeared!” She perks up slightly, dancing a little in her seat. “It was super cool!”

“That’s great. I’m glad you’re all okay,” Nathaniel says, and he means it wholeheartedly. It’s relieving to see his friends healed and holding up well. They’re both stronger than he’d originally gave them credit for; though maybe he just had low expectations for _everyone_ since the situation was terrifying and no one else had powers to defend themselves with.

Too bad there’s just the Ladybug and Cat Miraculous in play…Nathaniel’s sure that if there were more at his disposal, he’d be ready to welcome more people onto the team. Strength in numbers and all that, right?

It’d at least give him more peace of mind if there were more superheroes out there to defend the people of Paris alongside him and Wild Cat. He’s also sure his classmates, and Paris as a whole, would find themselves less worried if there’s more than two barely-qualified, spandex-wearing teenagers working as Paris’ last hope against Hawk Moth.

It’s a thought for another time, though.

For now, Nathaniel crosses his arms on his desk and rests his head on them, turning to make sure he can still talk to Rose and Juleka. They’re both just as curious about his disappearance as Alix, though more-so about any details he could gleam from the fight and the new superheroes themselves, now that the worry of Nathaniel’s well-being was resolved.

He tries to keep the answers vague enough to not give anything away, but eventually the conversation lulls him into dozing off.

* * *


	12. Like In The Shoujo Mangas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Kicks down the door] I've made my own fanart, and someone else made me some too, so there's now Visual References for this fic! Yeethaw!
> 
> I wrote too much for Nathaniel, so I had to split his chapters. That's why he's gotten some in a row. Next one should be a Marc chapter! We'll see how he's handling things.
> 
> In this chapter...A new pairing...maybe gets introduced. Maybe. ;)

* * *

Nathaniel stirs awake to an insistent poking on his shoulder and he groans.

“ _Jaina, not now_ ,” he grumbles out, annoyed and disoriented. His older sister always decided that the perfect way to wake him up was to cycle between different methods to ‘keep him on his toes’.

“Nope, not Jaina. Try again,” comes the dry reply, voice familiar, though certainly _not_ his sister’s.

Nathaniel hums, raising his head groggily to squint up at…Alix.

Oh, right. He was still in school.

“C’mon, wake up, Nath,” she sighs, rolling her eyes with a crooked smile on her face. “We’ve got lunch, then they’re letting us outta here.”

That makes him perk up, sleepiness properly driven off. “Oh? Do tell.”

* * *

It’s just like Alix had said; after lunch, school was let out for the day.

There wasn’t exactly a procedure set in place for ‘monster attacking school and traumatizing students’—well, not _yet_ , anyways— so the school just decided to make the day a half-day and call it quits.

It’s probably less complicated to get the kids out of their hair and back to their homes than it is to, like, give them all therapy, or something.

Now, a half-day was a miracle. And Nathaniel had pretty much been _waiting_ for the day to end the instant Ivan smashed into the classroom as a stone giant.

But somehow, in the short timeframe of the end of the attack to noon, the heavens decided to open up and dunk Paris in a bout of pouring rain.

_Great_. Like Nathaniel’s life wasn’t enough of a shitshow as it already is…

He double-checks his phone, and waves Alix off. “Papa just texted. Said he’s waiting for me at home. His shift was cut early.”

“Makes sense,” Alix nods, worrying the straps of her backpack as she frowns up at him. “You’re heading straight home, right…?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously.

Nathaniel raises a hand and places it on his heart. “I promise. Cross my heart.” He does the crossing motion, which earns him a wry grin and a little snort from her. A win.

“Right. I’m gonna head out, then,” she nods again, hesitating as she fiddles with her pink umbrella. “…You sure you—”

“I’m _fine_ , Alix,” he sighs, but he’s not annoyed as he smiles at her, encouraging and warm. “Go on, I know you want to skate home as fast as possible. And I need a bit of time to double-check that my stuff won’t get wet with the rain.”

“Alright, alright,” she sighs, bumping her hip against his. “But you better text me when you get back, so I know you’re okay, you dingus.”

“I will,” he promises instantly. He’s already worried his best friend enough for today. He can at _least_ do this to help ease her worries. “Now, go on. Your Dad’s probably pacing so hard, he’s leaving grooves on the floor.”

“Yours is too, dork,” she snorts, but she finally starts to walk backwards away from him, sending him a parting wave. “See ya t’morrow.”

He just gives her his usual goodbye—a raised hand and a slight grin—and she turns right around to skate her way out of the room.

* * *

Nathaniel wasn’t lying about needing time to protect his supplies and waterproof everything.

He tends to bring a bookbag with him the first week of school, where the workload is relatively light, instead of a backpack or a portfolio.

Right now, that decision was biting him in the ass. But thankfully, a quick trip to the custodian closet, and a pilfered garbage bag, and everything he needed to keep dry was wrapped and stuffed inside his book bag.

His only saving grace, really, was deciding to keep his larger sketchbook for his Art classes in his locker. That thing was nearly half as big as he was, and a hassle to carry around _normally_ , much less in inclement weather.

By the time that was all said and done, the rest of the school was empty, and Nathaniel seemingly the only student left, as he roamed the eerily quiet halls.

Tikki was snuggled in his book bag, wrapping herself in the extra folds of the garbage bag, burrowed between his squishy pencil cases.

“Sorry, Tikki,” he whispers, making sure his voice is quiet. He doesn’t trust the school being completely empty to have her flying about.

“It’s fine,” comes Tikki’s small voice. “Just try not to jostle your bag too much.”

“Will do,” he promises, carefully dipping his hand in his bookbag to lightly caress Tikki’s head with a finger. She giggles, snuggling up against the digit, and he can’t help the warm smile that lingers on his mouth, fondness breaking through his bone-deep tiredness.

Tikki was an absolute trooper, and he was going to give her the yummiest cookie he could find for her later. Sure, he managed to sneak her some crackers earlier from his lunch, just to make sure she wouldn’t starve and keep up her stamina, but she deserves a proper treat for all her help today.

His steps echo across the polished tile, heavy and slow and dragging. He blinks sluggishly, looking every which-way.

It’s as silent and empty as a ghost town, and it’s _weird_ , with it barely being past noon. Seems like everyone else decided to run off the instant they were let out for the half-day.

…He can’t exactly blame them, though. That was a Mood and a half.

He’s so out of it, he barely notices there are two more student blocking the front entrance.

Who are apparently…debating over an umbrella?

“I can’t just—just _take_ your umbrella, that’s not fair! It’s yours!” the girl insists.

Wait. Isn’t that Marinette…?

Nathaniel blinks the lethargy from eyes, slowly nearing the scene.

“It’s fine, you need it more than me,” the second student insists, a boy—isn’t that Adrien Agreste?

It almost feels he’s watching something straight from a romantic comedy. Like a cutesy scene from a goddamn shoujo manga. The handsome princely love interest handing the sweet every-day girl his umbrella.

Nathaniel is just so completely _over_ the day, that he doesn’t even stop himself from butting into the conversation, all notions of social niceties chucked out the window.

“You two _do_ realize there’s an easy solution to this, right…?” he asks them dryly, watching with some satisfaction as the two visibly jump in place, spooked and obviously having not considered someone else would still be around.

The duo spin to stare wildly at him, eyes wide.

“The two of you could walk to Adrien’s car under the umbrella. Then, once Adrien’s safely in his car, Marinette could walk home with the borrowed umbrella. Marinette returns the umbrella tomorrow, no one gets wet, and everyone’s happy.”

Adrien and Marinette stare at him, blinking their jewel-colored eyes like startled does, before turning to look at each other with dawning realization.

“Oh.” “Huh.”

A pause.

“So…?” Nathaniel asks them pointedly, sort of wanting to leave already, but his two unfairly pretty classmates were blocking his exit.

“If I may, my lady?” Adrien asks, giving an over-exaggerated bow with a wild flourish of his arm.

“Sure…?” Marinette says slowly, sounding bemused more than anything.

Adrien sticks out his elbow, and Marinette awkwardly hooks her arm in his, standing close enough that the two can fit under Adrien’s umbrella without either of them getting parts of themselves soaked by the downpour.

The duo descends the front steps, and Nathaniel gives a quiet sigh, extending his own umbrella and shaking it out.

Stupid tropey cutesy shoujo bullshit aside…It was actually sort of funny, how neither one realized there was an actual doable solution, both competing on who the politest one could be between them.

He shrugs to himself and made his way down the steps to the sidewalk, ignoring the two.

In any other circumstance, if he’d had the energy, Nathaniel would no doubt feel supremely jealous. He’d had a crush on Marinette all of last year, and pretty much anyone their age would _kill_ to have the chance to share an umbrella with a literal model.

As it was, all Nathaniel really had the energy for was to make his way to the subway and head home. He was tapped out, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

The sound of barely-audible snorting laughter drifts up from his bookbag.

Well. At least Tikki was enjoying herself…

* * *

Nathaniel was already halfway down the block, before he heard a voice calling out his name.

“Nathaniel…! Wait up!”

He automatically stops in place, a bit confused as to who would be calling for him.

Turning to the side, he looks over his shoulder to see Marinette jogging up to him, pink in the face and clutching her borrowed black umbrella.

“Hey! S-sorry, I just, um…” she trails off, awkwardly laughing. “I-I guess I just wondered, um…Which way you went to, ah, get home…?”

Nathaniel blinks back at her slowly, mind sputtering to catch up and process her question.

“Oh. Yeah, I take the subway, actually,” he states, rather languidly, with a surprising amount of calm. “I live out by The Louvre, sort of? I mean, not _exactly_. But it’s the Gennevilliers, which is close enough when you’re on the metro, so…”

“Ah…” Marinette says, almost…drooping in disappointment. Odd.

“Are you okay to head home?” Nathaniel asks her, suddenly struck by the thought. It jolts him enough that he forgets his fatigue, for now, firmly replaced by concern. Sure, the Dupain-Cheng Bakery was only a block or two away from Dupont, but still. Today was an ordeal that’s seemed to shake just about everyone in their class.

“Y-Yeah, I’ll be fine…” the girl answers sheepishly, toeing the ground and ducking her head, her ears pink. “My bakery’s close by—I mean! My parent’s bakery! Not _my_ bakery, per se, even though I technically live there. N-Not in the actual bakery _itself_ , m-mind you, but the apartment _above_ the bakery, so I think that maybe counts—"

“Are you really okay, Marinette…?” he asks with a frown, cutting through her rambling. Her entire face is flushed pink. “Are you sick?”

“W-What? Sick? Who, me?!” Marinette squeaks, whipping her head up, blue eyes bugging wide. She starts to wave her hand around, the one unoccupied by her borrowed umbrella. “N-no, no, not at all! Healthy enough to eat a horse. I mean! Healthy as a horse!”

He blinks back at her owlishly. She’s acting…off. Not really like herself.

Or, at the very least, she’s acting like an anxious mess, like when forced to speak up for a presentation in front of the class.

But that can’t be it, really; she’s only talking to _him_. And he’s not exactly intimidating. Hell, Marinette’s even taller than him!

If anything, _he’s_ the one that could never really talk to her, before now. He’s acted like a babbling disaster around her all of last year…So you’d think she’d find him as intimidating as a squirrel eating an acorn, or something.

“Your face is all pink…Are you sure you’re not coming down with a fever of some kind?” Nathaniel presses, cautious and concerned. His hand comes up to almost reach for her forehead, before he aborts the motion with a flinch. “I mean, with the stress of what happened today, maybe people can get sick from it…?”

Marinette responds with a sputter and a nervous, high-strung laugh. Nathaniel almost grimaces in sympathy at how painfully awkward she sounds, because, Mood. But grimacing at someone laughing might also be rude, so he just tries to keep a patient half-smile on his face as he waits her out, feeling awkwardly off kilter.

“I-I’m fine, really! M-M-Maybe the rain’s getting to me…” she hedges, fiddling with one of her pigtails and looking over at him through her lashes.

“Well,” he starts, not exactly knowing how to proceed, but trying anyways. “I hope you don’t catch a cold, or something.”

“ _Yes, very smooth, Nath. Top-tier socialization skills. Give yourself a medal_ ,” he thinks dryly to himself.

He knows he’s not exactly the _greatest_ at talking to people in the first place, but still. Maybe him being tired just. Full-on fries his brain.

If even the him of yesterday were in his current place, he’d be an even bigger mess than he is. At least he’s coherent and able to talk back to Marinette without stuttering and going catatonic.

Hell, did he somehow manage to transfer his own anxious social interaction abilities to Marinette…? Is this some sort of curse? More bad luck to go along with his powers of good luck?

“Th-thanks…” Marinette mutters eventually, still fiddling with her pigtail and looking at him through her lashes. “D-do you, um…Do you w-want to stop by the b-bakery for a bit, or…”

As tempting as the offer was—the Dupain-Chengs made the most _divine_ desserts in all of Paris, after all—he couldn’t keep his family waiting.

His Papa was no doubt frantic, pacing the entryway and waiting restlessly and impatiently for him to come back home. Nathaniel had the complicated job of very carefully not revealing that he himself was involved in any way with the Akuma attack on Dupont. And if Jaina and his Mama dropped in to visit, driven to because they were spooked, he also had to run damage control and comfort them as well.

Every minute that ticks by is another minute for his family to worry for his safety. And he can’t do that to them.

So he sighs and bites his lip, running a hand across the back of his neck with a grimace.

“Sorry, but my Dad’s really worried about me and wants me home as soon as possible,” he apologizes, feeling truly awful at the crestfallen look on Marinette’s face from his answer. He tries to smile back at her to lessen the blow. “Maybe next time…?”

“Y-Yeah! That’s fine! Next time,” she says, nodding her head rapidly, like a bobblehead. But she makes no move to leave, still standing there, staring at him with wide and soulful eyes, clutching at her borrowed umbrella.

“Um… Don’t get sick, okay?” he tells her lamely with an awkward little wave and smile, backing away and half-turning away from her. “Stay safe and dry.”

“Y-Y-You too!” she squeaks out, her face now red instead of pink. She should probably rush home to check on that, he thinks, just a little more worried.

Nathaniel gives one last wave, before he turns full around, and walks away.

Another odd event to add onto a string of odd events for today.

* * *

Nathaniel keeps a steady pace. He _wants_ to go home quickly, of course, but feels too tired to speed-walk to the subway stop. And the current urgency he feels makes him walk quick enough he’s not dragging his feet.

Thoughts circle his mind, round and round, like his spinning yoyo.

He’s not sure how he’s going to calm his parents down and lie to their faces on his involvement of today’s shitstorm, but he has to figure it out, and fast. The subway trip doesn’t take long, and that’ll be the only time to himself he has until he’s smothered by his well-meaning, concerned family.

He has a superhero persona to keep secret, and a city to protect. It’s…A lot of pressure. And a lot to cover up.

If his parents find out, they’ll demand he stop. And…He can’t. He feels too personally invested.

His classmates—his friends— _need_ him. They’re defenseless without him, without his ability to turn into a superhero to protect them.

And if he quits… no one else can be the one to fix the damage dealt.

And even if he’d barely met him today…He also can’t just abandon Wild Cat like that, either. Not after seeing him so injured, doing his duty to protect Paris, and his dumb classmates, and even Nathaniel himself.

So. He has to live a double life. At least, for as long as he’s able.

The thought is anxiety-inducing but also…exciting. Probably the fanboy in him, the one that adores superheroes and comics. _That_ part of him feels childish giddiness at the prospect of having a secret identity.

By the time he gets off his stop, his mind feels like mush, thoughts chased in circles.

And only then, does he realize that…That chat earlier was officially the longest conversation he’s ever had with Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Hm.

Maybe the Ladybug Miraculous is making him stronger in other ways that aren’t just physical.

He takes a deep breath, lets it out. Then another, as he lingers under the overhang at his usual subway stop.

He drops a hand down to his bookbag, careful as he gently pets Tikki, still huddled inside.

He hopes she can lend him strength for the complicated conversation ahead, and all the future conversations and balancing acts that will follow.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fortuno and Wild Cat references:  
> https://mexicancat-girl.tumblr.com/post/623553889392836608/alternate-miraculous-holders-ladybugnathaniel#postnotes
> 
> Nath and his older sister Jaina:  
> https://mexicancat-girl.tumblr.com/post/623840260076519424/nathaniel-goes-to-his-big-sister-for-advice-on-a#postnotes
> 
> Marc and his Moms by Christallized: https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/659753718971105286/733521796996792331/image0.jpg
> 
> Also...[rubs hands together] I'm starting up crush shenanigans already.

**Author's Note:**

> Nathaniel chap 1: Karma and my anxiety can't ruin today! It's barely the first day of school! I'm fine!
> 
> Nathaniel, after unlocking the Ladybug Miraculous and is confronted with Tikki:  
> 


End file.
